


Bad Luck And Innocence

by HannaM



Series: Bad Luck And Innocence [2]
Category: The Teahouse
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Character Interpretation, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, F/M, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Relationships, POV Alternating, Prostitution, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Narcissism, Sibling Incest, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Victim Blaming, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-01 17:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 81,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannaM/pseuds/HannaM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What a disgustingly coy name for a brothel. Had it ever really been a teahouse, Remy wondered, or had it always been a front for the interests of men (and their wealthy female relatives) that thought themselves above the law? </p><p>(Additional pairings listed in notes, tags/warnings may be added as new chapters go up)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm So Ugly, But That's Okay, Cause So Are You

When Remy found out that Rory had become a whore, she cried.  
  
Remy never cried. Not like her spineless little brother, whose lip wobbled at the slightest provocation. It had to be a mistake, she thought. Rory didn't know anything about that sort of thing. Rory would be the _worst prostitute ever._ Who would pay for her scrawny little wimp of a brother?  
  
Well, there were perverts everywhere. It wouldn't have to be about Rory at all, just what he represented. Men would pay a pretty price for the privilege of ripping apart a foolish innocent, seeing the idealism and spirit fade from their wide eyes. Remy knew this perhaps better than most.  
  
It had taken too long to find her brother. She'd been angry, at first, so angry that she couldn't stand to look at pictures of him. So angry she couldn't even think straight, couldn't do anything but look for things to destroy the way that Rory had destroyed her.  
  
When she came back to herself, of course, Remy knew that Rory hadn't destroyed her at all. No one could destroy her, not like that at least. He had _betrayed_ her, he had _abandoned_ her, but in doing that he had only revealed himself the way so many others before him had. She didn't know why she had thought he'd be any different, really. Rory wasn't safe. No one was safe. If you wanted safe, you locked yourself up in a room and blew your brains out. And that meant admitting you'd lost, and Remy never lost, not forever anyway.  
  
So she went out to the pubs and the card tables, and began to save up her winnings. Remy already had enough saved up to buy a carriage to the neighboring city, but there were other expenses to think of, and she needed enough to keep herself living comfortably until she could get an honest job.  
  
Catherine Dubois was beginning to get very tired of her daughter, Remy could tell. It wasn't exactly hard to tell, with all the fighting and the initial accusations that Remy had driven her beloved Rory to run away from home. Catherine had stopped saying that now, but since she hadn't mentioned an alternate theory, Remy suspected she still felt it.  
  
Rory wasn't in this town, that much was certain. Catherine had used all her connections in high places to scour for him, and Remy happened to have mentioned in several low places that her twin brother was missing, neither of which yielded any news.  
  
But then one week, Remy was at the gambling table (well, on one of the thugs' knees) and someone from the nearest city happened to comment that he had seen a boy who looked strikingly like Remy at a pub in the capital.  
  
Remy laughed, and the other men grinned. "You must have spotted my wayward brother. I suppose he's decided he's going to make something of himself. It doesn't look like he's gotten very far, does it?"  
  
Still, she couldn't get it out of her head. Rory was in the capital. Rory was in the capital. Rory might be happy in the capital. Rory might be laughing in the capital. Rory might be coming in his pants next to some slut waiting to steal his wallet in the capital. Rory might be fucking--  
  
It was going to drive her insane not knowing. It wasn't as if she had a good life here. Things hadn't turned out at all the way that Remy had hoped, but that was typical.  
  
Remy went to the capital.  
  
(She did leave a note for Catherine, because she wasn't cruel. She said she was going to find Rory, which was true, and that she would do her best to persuade him to come home, which wasn't)  
  
The Teahouse. What a disgustingly coy name for a brothel. Had it ever been a teahouse, Remy wondered, or had it always been a front for the interests of men (and their wealthy female relatives) that thought themselves above the law? Sexual slavery was legal now, but it was not so long ago that Remy didn't remember when it hadn't been. Other kinds of slavery had been on the approvals list longer, so it had really always been a matter of time.  
  
It wasn't hard to secure an interview with Xanthe Atros, head pimp. (Oh, he had some fancy official title but behind his back everyone knew him as the pimp with the eyebrows) Remy had a few drinks with a man that knew a man that was still owned money by the last owner of the Teahouse, Atros Senior. Strings were pulled, a date was set, and Remy chose her outfit with care.  
  
Rory lived in this house, she reminded herself, as she was escorted in by apparently the only security the Teahouse had, some kind of mute albino. She did so hope he would notice how well she was looking. She made a point of flashing a smile at the first man they passed.  
  
When she sat down opposite Atros, smile at the ready, Atros was still sorting through paperwork on his desk. Not looking up, he said, "Who are you and what do you want?"  
  
This was irritating, but Remy kept smiling and said, sweetly, "I'm Remy Dubois. I hear you bought my brother."  
  
Sure enough, that made him look up. She waited while those eyebrows furrowed and he assessed her face and form. If Rory really did live here, there was no way he wouldn't see the resemblance.  
  
"He's of age," Atros said, finally. "I have his agreement in writing. You have no right to interfere."  
  
"How much would it cost to buy him from you?"  
  
Atros' frown deepened. "More than you could possibly afford."  
  
Remy tilted her head, because if he wanted her to play stupid she'd play stupid. "Humor me? How much is more than I could afford?"  
  
"A wealthy man is paying handsomely for the exclusive right to Rory's company. You would have to compensate us sufficiently for the loss of this income, and possibly the loss of this client altogether."  
  
"And he's not interested in women, I take it?" The words had slipped out before Remy could think. She didn't know why she'd said them. There was no reason for her to take her brother's place. He didn't deserve it.  
  
Atros didn't seem particularly ruffled. "I would hardly ask such a thing of a valued customer."  
  
"It was a joke." Remy decided to change tactics. "I don't suppose you're hiring cleaning staff?"  
  
"That depends." Atros eyed her again, most likely considering whether she'd be the kind of ornament he didn't mind having about his lavish hallways. "Do you have much experience?"  
  
Now there was a double entendre if Remy had ever heard one. She smiled. "Considerable. My father was in the navy. I've cleaned up after drunken sailors without assistance. I imagine I can handle the demands of the job."  
  
Atros gave a curt nod. "Argent."  
  
Remy was confused, until she realized that was the albino's name. Creative.  
  
"Send for Rory. I've just hired his sister."  
  
They sat in silence. This was uncomfortable-- Remy was used to men being interested in talking to her, and it was clear that this pimp barely registered that she was alive. She had no idea what he was thinking, or why he'd summoned Rory. Did he think she was lying and want Rory's affirmation? Was Remy supposed to leave now? Did he have unrelated business with her brother?  
  
Well, if that was the case, Remy wasn't budging. Rory was her brother. Eyebrows didn't have the right to push him around.  
  
The door slammed open loudly enough that Remy jumped and turned, thinking it might be someone coming to fetch her away.  
  
It was Rory. God, his dress sense had gotten even stupider. She smiled.  
  
He ran.  
  
Remy stared at the open doorway where he had been. Of course. He was a coward, wasn't he? She shouldn't be surprised that he didn't want to see her.  
  
Well, he could run all he liked. She'd found him now.  
  
Remy was brought downstairs by Argent and introduced to the other maids. She could see them already making up stories about her in their heads. Remy smiled, and let them wonder.  
  
They were sent up to clean one of the rooms almost immediately. Remy had expected torn clothing, various bodily fluids and stench, but she hadn't expected the door to be broken.  
  
One of the maids rolled her eyes. "Some jerk went around busting things because he was jealous of Axis' other clients."  
  
_"Sssh!"_ hissed another one. "Don't you know who that _was?"_  
  
"I'm not going to say he's a jerk to his face," the first maid said, unperturbed. "I've been with Axis too, and I have to pick up his used condoms, but _I_ never slugged him in the jaw for it."  
  
Remy's mouth went dry. "Is Axis okay?"  
  
"He's fine."  
  
"Yeah, because this time there wasn't any broken furniture…"  
  
The room went out of focus for a moment. Remy put a hand out to steady herself.  
  
"Hey, Remy, are you all right?"  
  
She managed a smile. "Fine. Does this… person… see anyone but Axis?"  
  
"Yeah, he went with Claret once." One of the girls was picking buttons off the floor and putting them into a bag. "He didn't smack her around or anything, though. If he had, we'd know because Argent would have cut his balls off, prince or no pri-"  
  
"Ssssh!"  
  
Remy went to one of the windows and opened it, under the pretense of airing the room out. "Any other boys? Men. Did he break down any other man's door?"  
  
"Hey, now that you mention it," the first maid called from the adjoining bathroom, "he did! He broke down the new guy's door, probably because he thought Axis was still in there. It used to be Axis' room up until new guy started getting higher paying clients. What's the new guy's name again?"  
  
"Rory," one of the other maids said impatiently. Remy's fingers clenched against the windowpane. "He's nice enough. Good cook, too. Hey, Remy, you kind of look like him, you know?"  
  
"He's my brother," Remy said, and then immediately wished she hadn't. She could feel the increased scrutiny.  
  
"Wow, really? That must be weird. I know I'd feel weird if my sister worked here."  
  
"Did he tell you to come here? He's the best paid right now so he can pretty much do what he wants. Your brother's a nice person, though, not like Axis…"  
  
"Will you shut up about Axis?"  
  
_My brother's not a nice person,_ Remy thought, but returned to work. "It shouldn't be that weird," she said casually. "We've cleaned up each other's messes before."  
  
"So you won't mind doing his room?" The maid seemed relieved. "We've been a bit behind on his, actually, since Tessie's the only one Linneus lets do his room, and Mercutio's room has to be done _all the time_ , and now Axis is getting to be that way too. If you and Diamant can manage Rory and Lilith's rooms, that would be a huge relief."  
  
Rory's door was broken, but there were no other signs of violence. There weren't even any signs of sex. Remy wasn't sure if she was relieved. There was something sinister about the relatively tasteful decor, the complete lack of brothel aesthetics as compared to Axel's room (or the glimpse she'd gotten of Lilli's). The only hint that this was a prostitute's room was the size of the bed.  
  
It was as if the room itself was pretending to be something that it wasn't.  
  
"He's pretty clean, your brother," Diamant said, washing the windows. "You've got no idea how happy I am not to be cleaning Mercutio's room. Not that he's not tidy but his clients leave a hell of a lot more behind, you know?"  
  
Remy didn't know, but she wasn't about to admit it. "As long as they leave happy."  
  
It was hard to tell if Rory was purposefully avoiding her or if the servants just didn't come into contact with the whores that often. Remy did nearly walk into an extravagantly dressed green haired girl on her way to wash up before bed.  
  
"Whoops!" The green haired girl laughed. "I should really look where I'm going. Hey, are you Rory's sister? I've seen a picture of you."  
  
Remy smiled, nervously. "Yes." She wasn't sure why the green haired girl was speaking to her, let alone why she had seen Remy's picture. Was that even possible? There weren't many portraits of Remy floating around.  
  
"I'm Claret, by the way," the girl said conversationally. "I work upstairs, but not very often. Clients almost never pick me." She sighed, but perked up again almost immediately. "If you have any time and want to chat or anything, let me know! It is so boring sitting around while everybody else is working."  
  
"…Okay," Remy said, mostly out of politeness.  
  
"You're so cute!" Claret exclaimed. "You know, when I saw your picture in Rory's book, I thought you were his secret girlfriend or something. It's not like he talks much about his family. Wait, maybe I shouldn't have said that."  
  
So Rory had a picture of her. Remy remembered now-- they had sat for their seventeenth birthday. There was a matching picture of Rory that Catherine kept to herself, probably because Remy had tried to stab its face with a butter knife after he had gone. Catherine never mentioned that Remy's picture was missing. "It's fine. Um, shouldn't you be…"  
  
"Going? Oh no, you're right!" Clarith smoothed back her hair anxiously. "Do I look okay? Ugh, Argent's going to be _so_ mad I'm late. See you later!"  
  
Remy smiled. So much for starting fresh. He hadn't really tried to hide from her at all. Using his real name at the brothel was practically an invitation.  
  
To her great annoyance, she had to share sleeping quarters with three other maids. Remy didn't even have a bed to herself. This was not going to be a permanent arrangement. One of the other girls snored.  
  
Remy was shaken awake at the crack of dawn and more or less pulled to eat breakfast, which was the remains of ham quiche and chopped salad.  
  
She recognized the crust. Rory had made this.  
  
They all cleaned the main hall, and then a few maids went up to assist Lilleus and Linnet (or whatever their names were) while Remy and two other girls were sent to clean… girl whose name sounded like booze's room while she was out. Brandy? Cointreau? Claret?  
  
Then suddenly the albino came in and said they needed a few girls to help "towel off" Axed and Rory. Remy had no idea what that meant, but volunteered anyway.  
  
To her great annoyance, Rory had already seized a towel before she could. But Axen (Axel? Axit?) was pulling off his shirt, and he was in between Remy and Rory, so she approached him.  
  
Without even looking at her, Axe snatched the towel and threw his sweaty shirt on the floor. Remy kept her face even, surreptitiously glancing at Rory, who was still scrubbing his face and hadn't noticed her.  
  
Claret, who was being attended to by Silver, asked Piercings (she'd given up on his name for now) about somebody's father, and Piercings started boasting about how none of his clients talked to him because he was fucking them or something. Remy only really got the general idea, since Piercings started stripping down, and she happened to notice that the rug matched the curtains.  
  
She realized abruptly that she wasn't supposed to be staring, even if he was an exhibitionist, and clapped her hands to her mouth. She was pretty sure she was blushing, too, since she'd spent enough time around Rory to figure out that little trick.  
  
"Ain't that right, Twinkerbell?"  
  
Remy stiffened. Ivore's sailors were very defensive about the country's relatively recent reputation for being sexually permissive, enough so that she knew all the slurs the other sailors used to call them. Her brother might not, but he could certainly understand the derisive tone.  
  
"You do know that you're standing naked in the lobby, right?" Remy hated how much she'd missed his irritation.  
  
Axehead turned to her, and Remy obligingly looked up adoringly. "It's not like your sister's complaining." He put his hands on hers, and she knew there was no way Rory wasn't watching them.  
  
"What's your name, princess?"  
  
Now that was a pet name Remy hadn't heard in a while. "It's Remy, sir." The 'sir' had spilled out, no doubt from association.  
  
Piercings leaned in. "Pretty name."  
  
Remy didn't like the way he smelled, but he was the only one she was certain her brother disliked. Having him would hurt Rory the most.  
  
Piercings pulled away, apparently just so he could sneer, "Hey Rory, you always been the uggo twin?"  
  
Rory wasn't looking at Piercings, though, he was looking at Remy with that kicked puppy expression she remembered all too well. Good. First blood.  
  
To rub some sand in the proverbial wound, Remy bumped her head against Piercing's arm and put on her blandest smile. Claret was yelling something at Axis (!), but Remy wasn't paying attention. Rory turned around and stalked out of the lobby, and Remy watched him go, wondering why she didn't feel more satisfied.  
  
Rory hadn't even said anything to her. Remy knew it took more than that to make Rory angry, but the way he had refused to speak to her… he said once it wasn't because he thought she was ruined. But he would get so cold sometimes. What was the point in hurting him if he could just walk away? How did she even know that she had made him jealous? What if he was only looking at her like that because he was so disgusted by her?  
  
Well, let him look. Even if he was revolted, even if he was staring at her the way you'd stare at a broken doll or a mangled corpse, he was still looking at _her._ And even if he thought she was disgusting, he hadn't thought she was so disgusting that he couldn't kiss her, couldn't touch her, couldn't hold her close and listen to her make a fucking fool of herself in front of him. What he must have thought of her then! The stupid whore loves anyone that makes her hot, and how much is that kind of love worth, anyway, when she's all dirty and slutty and wanting it and good little girls don't like it when men do those things and good little girls don't think about their brothers that way and good little girls don't make men want her the way so many men want her, and they'd never touch their brother that way and they'd never ever ever think their stupid brother would… they wouldn't make their brother hate them, because they wouldn't ruin everything so their brother would go and-  
  
Rory had sold himself to a whorehouse. That was what Rory did when she wasn't there. Rory's ass had a price tag on it, and someone else got to take the profits. He didn't have a leg to stand on, because for once he'd made the dirty choice, not her.  
  
She just had to get him alone. Then she'd prove he still wanted her.  
  
In the evening, Remy was recruited to help clean Mercury's apparently piss stained sheets, which took far longer than it should have. They were all exhausted by the end, and it wasn't long before everyone around Remy was fast asleep.  
  
Remy knew how to walk softly. She pulled off her nightdress and replaced it with a slightly rumpled men's shirt she'd brought with her that barely covered her privates. Rory would recognize it as his own.  
  
The advantage of a summer night was that she was perfectly comfortable making her way upstairs, particularly when she reached carpeted floor. One tug opened Rory's door, which she knew from cleaning yesterday did not have squeaky hinges, and it mostly closed behind her, hopefully not sticking in the process.  
  
Rory slept in the middle of the bed, alone. She had guessed rather than made certain his client wasn't an overnight one, but it pleased her that he was in the middle and not making unconscious concessions to an imagined bed partner by sleeping on the left side. Or the right. The right would be worse, because Remy had always slept on the right.  
  
Remy unbuttoned her shirt, just a few buttons, nothing overt. He'd always responded better to that than pure nakedness.  
  
Rory was sleeping on his side, the way she remembered. Contrary to cliche, he didn't look peaceful in the slightest. He was frowning, his eyes obviously moving around underneath the lids, hand twitching now and then.  
  
Remy crawled onto the bed and leaned over him, hair falling over one shoulder. She thought, unaccountably, of a fairy story she'd read in a book as a child about a sleeping princess who was woken by the kiss of her true love.  
  
Would Rory wake up if she kissed him?  
  
He'd always been a light sleeper. Remy lowered her head to his ear and said, at normal volume, "Rory."  
  
Rory jolted awake instantly, pulling the sheet up before he really saw who it was. Interesting. He never used to sleep in the raw.  
  
"I like your room," Remy said, nonchalantly. She also didn't fix her partially unbuttoned shirt, which was beginning to bare parts of her he'd seen before. "I have to share mine with three other girls. I never really did get along with other girls."  
  
Rory's face was pink, and she didn't think he was faking. He wasn't happy to see her, of course (well, parts of him might be) but he wasn't yelling at her or giving her the cold shoulder.  He just stared, as if he thought he was dreaming.  
  
Useless, as always. Remy crawled forward with deliberate slowness, letting the shirt slide off her shoulders.  
  
"Y-you shouldn't-- you shouldn't be here," Rory stammered, eyes darting to the door, which he knew as well as she did wasn't locking.  
  
"And you should be?" Remy returned, her face close enough to his to feel his warm breath, coming in little pants. Oh yes, he still wanted her. She smiled. She was... getting distracted.  
  
Remy grabbed his face with her hand to make sure he was looking at her. "I like this room."  
  
She wanted to bite Rory's lip, make him cry out. She wanted this to be as painful for him as it was for her. "I think I'm going to take it," she whispered.  
  
Rory's eyes widened. _Good,_ she thought. _Be scared._  
  
But for a moment Remy thought he looked sad, too.

 _My sweet, vulnerable little brother_. She kissed his forehead tenderly before she left.

Remy woke up coughing and choking on cold water, and for a wild moment she thought she must have fallen asleep on deck.  
  
Tessie and another maid holding an empty bucket were standing over her. "Welcome back," Tessie said dryly. "Lara and Tinsel couldn't wake you up, so you've missed breakfast."  
  
Remy, still spitting up water, glared at her. "You've gotten my clothes all wet!"  
  
"Sorry, 'princess'," one of the the older woman said snidely.  
  
Tessie crossed her arms. "If you hurry, you can set up the memorial for the king that Tinsel's just finished. And I would hurry, if I were you. The portrait goes in the main lobby by the stairs."  
  
The hot summer air helped Remy's hair to dry, but not nearly fast enough for her liking. She sat down by the rose covered portrait, and wondered how long she could get away with not going back to work. She hated the other maids, and she hated that she was going to have to clean up after whoever was fucking her little brother.  
  
All right, she hated that someone was fucking her little brother. And she hated that she was still the one that had to fight to exist, even here, where she should be more valuable than him. It was the one thing that Remy knew she was any good at, and he'd had to go and take that from her too.  
  
Claret and Mercury came by with a bouquet that they laid beside the memorial, not questioning Remy's presence.  
  
"Are you sad about the king too?" Claret asked, as Mercury blew his nose.  
  
"Yes," Remy said, because what else could she say?  
  
Rory should be the one doing women's work, and Remy should be the one people paid through the roof to fuck. She knew very well how pathetic he was in that ar-  
  
No, she couldn't tell herself that lie. He had… he had been good to her, once. It had meant everything to her, and then she'd woken up and he was gone. Some going away present. Thanks for the fuck sis, now I'm off to make a living with the experience _you_ gave me.  
  
Axis strolled in, and the three of them got to talking about the king, ignoring her. Remy put her finger out to touch the display, and deliberately dragged it against one of the thorns. "Ouch!"  
  
She stared at the blood welling up on her forefinger. It was funny how something so small could go on stinging. Would it hurt any more if she did it with another finger, or was it the same? It was so much better to control the pain, instead of bracing yourself when you were at someone else's mercy...  
  
"Remy!" Claret exclaimed. "Are you okay?"  
  
Axis knelt before her. To her surprise, he put her bloody finger in his mouth. Well, okay, she could work with that.  
  
Axis smirked. "Are now, aren't you?"  
  
Remy's hot face was even sort of genuine. This was the sort of dynamic she knew how to work in. She could have him whenever she wanted, and judging by his grin he was perfectly all right with that arrangement.  
  
As Axis got to his feet, Remy thought she heard something on the stairs. She looked up and there was Rory, staring at them.  
  
Remy smiled at him. _You see? You might think I'm garbage, but there will always be someone else to pick up what you threw away._  
  
If it was a staring contest, Remy won. After one last look of pathetic longing, Rory turned away.  
  
"Thank you," Remy said sweetly, turning back to Axis.  
  
"Anytime, princess."  
  
Remy left with a spring in her step. She made it all the way to the kitchens before someone grabbed her by the wrist and spun her around. Near blinded by terror, Remy swung a punch with her other arm, but her attacker dodged, and she realized abruptly that it was Rory.  
  
"What are you trying to do?" Rory hissed.  
  
"I could ask you the same question!" He didn't know her heart was still pounding. She had to focus on him so he didn't see how dizzy she was. "Some man you've turned out to be."  
  
Rory made a strangled noise. "So you'd prefer Axis?"  
  
Jealous? Good. "Axis likes me. Why does it matter to you?"  
  
"He doesn't like you, he doesn't even know you!" Rory snapped, his grip tightening around her wrist. "All he likes is your body, and I don't want him using you the way he uses everyone else!"  
  
"And maybe all I like is his body," Remy said, trying to break his grip, or revolt him into letting go. "Maybe _I'm_ the one who's using _him._ Or are you the only person who gets to do that?"  
  
Rory flinched. "It's not… look, I'm not hurting Lord Reed by lying to him. It isn't as if he's trying to have a relationship with me. And I haven't been getting anywhere, anyway."  
  
Remy had no idea what he was talking about, which made her angry, and then she realized Lord Reed must be Rory's client. "Typical! What did you do, blush and stammer at him?"  
  
Rory glared at her, though he let go of her wrist. "He paid for a virgin, so I thought I'd give him one."  
  
Remy pulled her arm close and flexed her fingers, and wished her stupid heart would stop pounding. "No one wants a prostitute that's afraid of sex. What the hell have you been doing to keep him happy, then?"  
  
Rory sighed and gestured to the kitchen.  
  
"You're making him lunch?" The absurdity of it was almost comforting. "Because you really want the guy to be farting up a storm when you're…" She jabbed her finger into her fist demonstratively.  
  
"Oh, grow up!" Rory snapped, though he looked a bit pink around the ears.  
  
"I'm serious! That hole's got more than one use, you know. It could get messy."  
  
"And what makes you think that's what he's doing any-" Rory abruptly clamped his mouth shut and avoided eye contact.  
  
Remy grimaced. "What, has he been putting off the official jailbait deflowering so he can pat himself on the back for gradually corrupting you or something?"  
  
Judging by the look on Rory's face that was exactly what was going on.  
  
Rich men and their fetishes. Maybe Rory had the right idea after all. "In that case, you'd better not have the spinach quiche yourself."  
  
Rory crossed his arms. "Why are you so sure I'm the bottom, anyway?"  
  
"Because you're the virgin. The less you have to do, the more fun for him." Remy scowled. "This isn't some creepy child thing, is it? Or a priest roleplay? Forgive me lord for the blowjob I am about to receive-"  
  
"No, _ugh."_ Rory buried his face in his hands and mumbled something she couldn't make out.  
  
"What?"  
  
"He… said I was too tight the first time he tried."  
  
Whatever Remy had been expecting, it wasn't that. She had started rubbing her wrist at some point.  
  
Rory glared at her. "Don't look at me like that! He paid for someone who had no idea what he was doing!"  
  
"Well, that makes two of you." Remy growled. She couldn't believe someone had said that to her baby brother, that someone had talked to him like-  
  
"He told me to work on it," Rory muttered, red faced.  
  
"But it's not your fault!" Remy shouted. "It's a bodily response! If he couldn't fuck you that's because that bastard was scaring you and you tensed up!"  
  
Rory looked at her then. "How do you know this?"  
  
She ground her teeth. "How do you think I know? Girls shit too."  
  
And there it was, that sickening mixture of pity and disgust on his face. "Don't you dare look at me like that! Don't you dare, don't you dare, don't you _dare!_ You're no better! If you want to keep this pervert, don't fucking clench and don't listen to a word he says. You just tell him that he's the god of sex, or whatever he wants you to think he is. There, that's the best advice on being a fucktoy you'll get all day."  
  
"Well, you would know, wouldn't you?" Rory said coldly.  
  
Remy recoiled. Point to you, little brother.  
  
Drawing herself up, she met his eyes and spat, with all the venom she could muster. "That's right."  
  
Rory's face crumbled. It should have felt more satisfying than it did.  
  
Remy turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen.  
  
She didn't go far. Lara was trying to get some sort of contraption up to Mercury's room, so Remy helped her haul it upstairs, where Mercury eagerly walked around it and pronounced it perfect. They were on their way back to the servants' quarters when Remy spotted Claret heading for the kitchen.  
  
"I'm going to see if they need any help cleaning dishes," Remy said to Lara.  
  
Lara frowned. "Well, okay. But you should tell Tessie where you're going first."  
  
Maybe because she was preoccupied, Tessie waved Remy away without a word, and Remy went as fast as she could to the kitchen, where she got within earshot of Rory and Claret's conversation just in time to hear, "Wait, you mean you guys haven't-"  
  
"Sssh!"  
  
"But when are-"  
  
_"Sssh!"_  
  
 Remy pressed her back against the wall and strained to hear. Did he know she was likely to be listening?  
  
"I think today."  
  
Remy stiffened.  
  
"Are you scared?"  
  
She felt sick.  
  
"No. Not really."  
  
"Wait, does that mean you're excited?"  
  
An unwelcome memory surfaced. _I bet you're excited, eh? Don't get shy on us now, Remy. We all know you too well for that._  
  
"I don't know about excited."  
  
"Because you sound a little excited!"  
  
"Nervous. I'm _nervous."_  
  
Rory was her brother. How deep did the similarities go?  
  
There was nothing she could do. It was going to happen and there was nothing she could do. Rory wasn't Remy, she reminded herself. Rory wanted this. Or had convinced himself that he did. Besides, he deserved to suffer. He had no clue what he was in for, to judge from what he'd said. And the old pervert wasn't going to wait for him to be comfortable.  
  
He'd made his bed, now he could bleed in it.  
  
(If there was blood, Remy would strangle the creep in his sleep, no matter how rich he was)  
  
Remy went upstairs to clean Rory's room before he returned. She almost walked into Linnet and a customer, a towering broad-shouldered man who put his hand on Remy's shoulder, startling her.  
  
"Hey, don't worry about it," he said gently. There was rum on his breath  
  
His face was poorly shaved, stubble along his chin and cheeks. There was a ring in his ear, and missing flesh that suggested he had once worn a second ring that had been torn off.  
  
The ship creaked, and Remy remembered the shock of bristles against flesh, the smell of rum, the rising and falling and most of all, the pain.  
  
Nothing to do with this man. She bobbed in a terrible attempt at a curtsey and walked on without a word.  
  
Diamant hadn't arrived yet, but neither had the locksmith. Remy slipped inside Rory's room, and sat on the floor next to the closed door.  
  
"I hate it here," Remy said, and swallowed a sob.  
  
Tears ran down her face, and her nose ran, but Remy knew how not to make a sound. She just needed this moment, and then she'd wipe her face, blow her nose and no one had to know but her.  
  
She'd been here last night, but it looked so different with the daylight. And Remy hadn't left a trace, not like… she could see Rory had stripped the dirty sheets off the bed himself and put them in a pile in the corner.  
  
One of the drawers was half open. Remy didn't really want to get up, but she had to know what was in there. She might have to clean it, anyway.  
  
There was a box, and it was heavy. Remy took the lid off and saw some kind of gaudy… weapon? Statuette? Paperweight? It must have been a gift from Sir Bastard. What the purpose of the gift was escaped her. Remy lifted it out of the silken packaging, turning it back and forth to see if anything would clarify its purpose.  
  
On a whim, she sniffed it, then nearly dropped it. Was this supposed to be a butt plug? It was huge! The flared base made sense, but… Remy stared at it. What kind of extravagant weirdo bought someone what felt like a solid gold butt plug with a jeweled base?  
  
She was tempted to hide it, but she didn't think she had the time. Dropping the thing back in the box and stuffing it away, Remy was so angry she'd almost forgotten to be upset. Who did he think he was, buying expensive thoughtless presents for her baby brother, who didn't even understand how anuses worked? (Well, evidently neither did Mr Moneybags)  
  
It wasn't right, Rory keeping his presents and nothing from home. There had to be something here that was actually Rory's, something that proved he hadn't changed, that he wasn't this bastard's brainless kept boy.  
  
Remy rifled through his drawers in a near panic. Clothes, clothes, ugly clothes, clothes didn't count, books-  
  
Books. What had Claret said about Rory's books? Remy grabbed one at random and flipped through it, then grabbed another one, a book of poetry she had 'borrowed' from him once, and there, stuffed in between the front cover and the title page, there she was, frozen in time.  
  
Remy smiled. There weren't any pictures of Catherine. There weren't pictures of the cook, or the ladies, and there certainly weren't pictures of his john. Just her, by herself, from a day they had shared.  
  
Remy closed the book and hugged it to her chest.  
  
In a way, Claret had been right. She was Rory's secret girlfriend.    
  
"Remy, what are you doing?"  
  
Remy jumped, dropping the book back into the drawer. It was Diamant, standing in the doorway with her hand on his hip.  
  
She's going to think I was sniffing his panties or something. "I…" she stammered. "I lost my… I needed a bandage, and I thought Rory might have one."  
  
"We have those downstairs," the maid said doubtfully.  
  
Remy held up her finger, which had crusted blood on it. "Show me?"  
  
"You look like hell," Tessie said when Diamant brought Remy in. "Take the evening off, then. Lara can help Diamant tonight. You'd better get to bed early so you can get up tomorrow morning."  
  
Remy had no idea how long she lay in bed, hearing other people clatter around. She thought she fell asleep a few times, because she would think she heard Rory calling for her and try to turn her head and call back, and find herself paralyzed, over and over again. When she could move, she knew he'd never been there.  
  
The little windows were dark. Had it already happened? Was Rory underneath him now, struggling to breath between the weight and the scrutiny? Had he gone away inside while smiling like a pretty doll?  
  
Remy sat up. Her stomach was rolling, since she hadn't eaten in hours. It occurred to her that maybe Rory had made that meal for afterwards. She knew the others had clients pay to sleep overnight, and if his options were to have food in his room or not eat…  
  
She didn't have much of an appetite.  
  
After forcing a few bites, Remy waited, impatiently, for everyone to go to bed. She wasn't even sure that her roommates were asleep yet, but she was climbing up the stairs as fast as she could go, because she had to know, she had to see for herself, she couldn't let Rory be alone with it like she-  
  
Someone was in Rory's bed with him.  
  
Remy walked carefully, heel toe, circling close so she could see what he looked like.  
  
The man was massive. All muscle, no fat, and so broad you couldn't even see Rory from behind his back. Long black hair that looked cleaner than Remy's. She frowned. Only rich men who didn't expect to get into fistfights wore their hair out like that. Not that Eyebrows hadn't already made a point of mentioning how rich the man was, but…  
  
Rory looked like a child next to this marble man. Her brother slept still on his side, curled inward, fingers clenched next to the pillow with his back to the other man.  
  
They made an odd picture. There was no suggestion of intimacy from Rory, but the man had put his tree trunk of an arm around Rory's waist, trapping him, his body pressed all against Rory.  
  
Remy remembered how often Rory used to get up in the middle of the night. What if he had to use the toilet and he couldn't get out of his john's grip?  
  
Ever so gently, Remy put her hands on marble abs' thick wrist, lifting it slightly, very slightly, and angling his arm down by Rory's thigh.  
  
A lot of things could happen while one was sleeping. People could move about. And Rory would find it easier to get up now.  
  
When Remy next saw her brother, he was smiling. Not a real smile, of course. Remy had to clean up after those oh-so-romantic encounters, and the clutter left was never the clutter of Rory living a life of leisure.  
  
Rory was always a liar. He'd gotten better at it too, or maybe no one in this place cared enough to put the pieces together and assemble the nonsense that was his persona here. They all thought he was in love with that Lord Constipated Statue, that he put together those complicated menus out of devotion rather than to prove something.  
  
It was the same as it had been when Rory made all those special treats for Catherine's salon. Rory didn't spend hours in the kitchen because he loved those rich old ladies so much, he wanted them to talk about him. And he did it to avoid seeing Remy.  
  
He was still avoiding her.  
  
Remy had Axis wrapped around her little finger. She kept their encounters brief and ever so slowly played less and less shy. He would be expecting more soon, she knew, so the trick was to find the right time and place.  
  
Rory always went to the kitchen a few hours after Lord Frozen Face left, and there was counter space to spare when he wasn't making one of his spreads. The trouble was that Axis wasn't always available in the evenings, and Axis, increasingly, did not get to make his own schedule.  
  
When it came out that the king had bought Axis and he was going to have to move to the palace, Remy knew she had to move fast. Rory had an appointment that afternoon, and Axis wouldn't be seeing any clients.  
  
"I'll be waiting for you in the kitchen at five to seven," she murmured, when they encountered each other in the courtyard. "I'm not working then."  
  
Rory wouldn't be down until seven at the earliest, but she needed a little time to… warm up.  
  
Remy was a little anxious about it, actually. Or rather, she was anxious that she would be anxious and Axis would notice. She knew what she was doing, but it was so important that Rory find them at the right moment and not, say, when Axis was fishing around for a condom. Or when Axis was theoretically asking why she was dry as a bone.  
  
The point was not to get hung up on the logistics. Axis would be there, Rory would be there, Remy could take care of the rest because she certainly knew her own body better than either of them.  
  
The anxiety melted away as time passed, until Remy was fixing her hair to go and meet Piercings in the kitchen, feeling an odd thrill. She planned to sit on the counter, right where Rory usually prepared lunch. She liked the idea of being where his hands had been.  
  
Piercings was early. "About time I get to have some fun on my own time." He grinned at her. "Get ready for the ride of your life."  
  
_Oh, please._ Remy lowered her eyes in false modesty, and untied the top of her blouse. Piercings pulled her into a kiss, which was about the way it usually went, but she was more interested in his hard on against her stomach than going on kissing him.  
  
"You're pretty tiny," Axis commented. "Might be easy if you focus on what's closest to you instead of giving me a crick in my neck, you know?"  
  
Remy smiled, thinking if he tried to put his dick in her mouth she'd bite it off. As if it had only just occurred to her, she bumped against the counter, and pretended to have difficulty pulling herself up onto it.  
  
"Clever, aren't you, princess?" He lifted her up onto the counter, her skirts riding up as she settled into place.  
  
"Guess what underwear I'm wearing?" Remy said innocently, spreading her legs.  
  
Trick question: none.  
  
When he got close enough, she slipped her hand down his pants. A little encouragement to keep things moving, since it was nearly seven now.  
  
"What a dirty princess you are, huh?" Piercings leered. "I bet you're soaked through."  
  
Remy wished he'd stop talking, it was much easier to get into it when she didn't have to hear his moronic voice. "Sssh," she said demurely, as he slid his hand under her skirts.  
  
He grinned when his hand found her crotch. Remy smiled, and leaned back a little. "Just as I thought," he said, which was actually surprising since she didn't think she was all that wet. Maybe she really did have something other women didn't.  
  
He put one finger in, and she pushed him out of her thoughts entirely. The usual vague erotic images went through her head as she rocked against the counter, registering a second finger.  
  
And then, quite unwelcome though it was, she thought of Rory, underneath her and panting, his cock between her legs. Rory, tearing off her blouse, Rory, grabbing her and shoving her where he wanted her, and now there were three fingers and she could tell she was getting really wet and she looked in the doorway and-  
  
Rory.  
  
Remy was panting now, and she thought she was probably making soft noises because she was so glad to see him, and so glad he could see her, and he wasn't leaving either, just standing there, staring at her with his mouth slightly parted, his cheeks flushed, and she was glad he wore such tight, tight pants.  
  
Remy cried out as Rory looked at her, as his eyes met hers, as his hand grasped at the doorframe while the fingers worked in and out of her, in and out, though she wished they'd go faster.  
  
Rory, she thought, would go faster, rougher, the way he'd been rough with her before. She hoped he was taking notes, because she knew he could do better than this guy. Rory _bit…_  
  
And Remy came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Lithium" by Nirvana.
> 
> Additional pairings (including hookups, breakups, and background mentions) include Reed/Rory, Axis/Remy, Gilder/Linneus, Claret/Argent, Axis/Rhys, Atros/Linneus, Atros/Yvette, Atros/Lilith, Reed/Rhys, Rhys/Gloria, Mercutio/Zephyr, Axis/Gloria, Mercutio/Rory, Mercutio/Evelyn, Remy/Yvette and others.


	2. Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered

Thank god Rory's door locked again.  
  
He'd ran upstairs as fast as he could, and was gasping for air now, with his back against the door and his eyes on his rumpled bedsheets.  
  
Rory could still hear Remy moaning in his head, still see the way she'd looked at him. He was getting hard, and he hated himself.

(Why did it have to be _Axis_ of all people?)  
  
Did he look like that, he wondered, when Reed was fucking him? It wasn't like he could see himself.  
  
He'd almost forgot what it was like to _want_ someone, to have this visceral searing desire throbbing in his veins. When he was with Reed, it wasn't like that at all. Rory never thought about the man in front of him (or behind him) and had never even questioned why that was. He could get it up for Reed, because it was the situation he was in. He knew Reed didn't love him, didn't care about him, just saw him as a piece of meat, and that, depressingly enough, was exactly what got Rory off. If he'd just met Reed in the marketplace, Rory would never have even considered if he was attracted to him.  
  
Remy… Rory wanted to touch her, to hear her, to smell her, to make her toes curl and her eyelids flutter. He wanted to lick the sweat off her skin. He wanted her to be his the way he had always been hers.  
  
There was a mirror, a large one, above one of his dressers. Rory could see his reflection in it from here, flushed and panting.  
  
It was a terrible idea. He knew very well that plenty of terrible ideas ran through people's heads when they were desperately turned on.  
  
Rory went to the dresser and took the mirror down from the wall.  
  
Pulling off his shirt, Rory crossed to the bed and shoved all the pillows onto the floor. He set the mirror, carefully, on the bed leaning against the headboard. He shimmied out of his pants and underwear, and knelt on the bed, facing the mirror.  
  
There was only one way to find out if he looked like Remy when he came.  
  
Rory tilted his head back, meeting the eyes of his reflection. They had the same eyes, after all. If he smiled like so…  
  
His cock twitched, and he began to stroke himself, letting his mouth open a little the way Remy's did when she was pleased. _Oh._ That was that way she'd looked downstairs, when she noticed he was watching.  
  
Would she put on a show like this for him? Was that what that _was?_ He would for her, if she wanted. He'd show her everything he'd learned.  
  
He'd used the mirror once before, when he was trying to work out how Reed's presents went in. He thought of Remy, on her back, pushing the toy with the emerald base into her ass, moaning, begging for it, and his breath caught.  
  
_God, Rory, yes, Rory, harder Rory-_  
  
He wasn't even trying to look like Remy now, he could see her face in his reflection, the way she'd looked that night underneath him, her body arching, nipples visibly hard… don't think about that. That wasn't right, that wasn't fair, she might have felt like he was getting ready to leave her and just kissed him to make him stay so-  
  
Remy on her knees. Remy with the other toy, taking it into her mouth, Remy turning so he could see her ass and her-  
  
Rory groaned, and his reflection groaned with him. He sounded like Remy.  
  
Was he really doing this? He was not really doing this.  
  
God, after everything else he'd done, what did it matter?  
  
He spit on his fingers and reached back to finger himself. Needed to practice that anyway. Right, sort of circling around for a bit, working his way in to get used to the feeling, which was so much more pleasant when he was already all tingly… had Remy ever done this? She probably had.  
  
Rory had exaggerated moans before, but that had been for Reed's benefit. Had he sounded like Remy then?  
  
He hardly recognized himself in the mirror, all self-consciousness gone. It was Remy's hips thrusting against his fingers, Remy's little gasps coming out of his mouth, Remy's tongue darting out and licking his lips.  
  
"Rory," he gasped, and heard his sister. "Rory, yes, Rory, I need you!"  
  
He was bending over now, one arm braced to keep him from landing face first in the mattress. It wasn't comfortable, exactly, but it felt good. Besides, it was easier to imagine it was Remy in the mirror when he wasn't constantly catching glimpses of his own cock.  
  
He'd take her from behind, but then he wouldn't be able to see her face, though he could pull her hair and make her cry out. "Rory… mmm, that's good." He'd have her against the wall, her leg around his hips as he fucked her. "Yes, Rory!"  
  
Fed up with assplay, Rory switched hands, leaning on the one he'd been using and moaning in relief as he cupped his balls with the other. He'd make her forget all about Axis. He'd make her _beg_ for it.  
  
"Please, Rory, please!"  
  
Rory came hard and loud, groaning as he watched himself in the mirror. When he was done, panting, he closed his eyes and leaned on both his hands, knowing he'd have to change the sheets himself, and probably wash the mirror.  
  
What was _wrong_ with him? Someone could have heard. Someone could have seen him running up the stairs. He didn't think Axis had noticed he was there, but…  
  
God, Axis. Why did it have to be _Axis,_ of all people? He'd be strutting around for days now, boasting about what he'd done to Remy. And Remy would act like it was fine, because she thought that was what she deserved, and it wasn't.  
  
He should have been a better brother. Or he should never have been born Remy's brother at all. And Axis wasn't about to let him forget it.  
  
Wait, Axis was leaving. Rory had almost forgotten, so caught up had he been in his own personal hell. Whatever Axis thought, it was about to become entirely irrelevant to Rory and Remy alike.  
  
A sudden realization washed over him, and he jerked his head up to stare at his reflection again. Axis was leaving. Remy had to have known. Had this been a farewell present, or had she chosen him specifically because he was going to the palace tomorrow morning?  
  
Of course, it might not have been their first time together. But Rory knew his sister. They hadn't been in the kitchen, Rory's domain, by accident. She had wanted him to see, and she had known full that Axis would be gone in the morning and out of the picture for the foreseeable future.  
  
She could have been protecting Axis, but Rory very much doubted that. In a fistfight, Axis would win every time, and Rory had already done his best to get at Axis in other ways, and failed spectacularly. Who cared if you were the top earner once your nemesis was the king's concubine? No, Remy had been protecting herself. Under the circumstances, she could be reasonably certain Axis wouldn't expect more out of the relationship than she was willing to give, which made him a better choice than Mercutio or Atros or even Claret.  
  
Rory sat back on his heels. He was no prize, as Reed liked to repeatedly remind him. If he lost Reed as a client, it might be a long time before he could get anyone else, particularly now that he couldn't trade on his dubious virginity. Wide eyed eager youth might make him a decent living but it wasn't working out too well for Claret, who as far as he could see was a perfectly attractive woman that nonetheless was passed over time and time again.  
  
What did Remy want from him? He was in an objectively worse position than she was at this point. Did she just want to rub it in? It wasn't like he hadn't paid attention to the things she said about pleasing men. Her advice was fine for a whore, but it wasn't getting him any further towards stability than his own efforts had.  
  
Rory sighed and got off the bed, trying to wipe away as much come as he could before hanging the mirror back up.  
  
Rory's room stunk. It didn't even really feel like it was his room. He knew very well it wasn't cleaned frequently for his benefit, but for Reed and his supposed OCD. Worst of all, on the pretext of said OCD, Rory couldn't even go to the bathroom without being reminded of his status. Not that he was likely to forget.  He'd had to give up showering temporarily because he was so worried he'd forget to wash the brand on his foot and get an infection. What was the thing you got when an open wound was infected? Gangrene? Tetanus? One of those. He was worried he'd get one of those.  
  
And then when he had finally stopped worrying about it… then Remy had arrived. And before he could figure out what to do about that, she'd come to his bed in the middle of the night, just the way she used to do at home.  
  
Rory should have been more bothered by that, he supposed. It was another reminder of how little privacy he had, and of course if anyone had found her in his room dressed like that, they would have assumed he had taken advantage of her. Which he _had,_ but not lately.  
  
But at the time, he hadn't thought about any of that. He'd just been so ashamed that she was seeing him like this, and filled with a horrible mixture of grief and arousal at her choice of clothing, which he knew full well was deliberate. He wanted so badly to go back to before, to have her sleep chastely by his side and hold her the way a brother should.  
  
Of course, it was impossible. They weren't those children anymore.  
  
Why had she come here at all? To torment him? It wasn't an accident, Rory was sure of that. She paid too much attention to him for that.  
  
Was she jealous?  
  
Not of Rory, of course, that was absurd. But the way she had zeroed in on Axis, repeatedly, and the way she'd commented derisively about Reed… was she jealous of him?  
  
Something from long ago, a half-forgotten memory, presented itself in a new context. They had been talking about flirting, which Remy did a lot of and Rory very little. But he had been flirting with some of the women at Mother's salon, and he'd mentioned it to Remy, and… she'd sort of twitched, and said something sarcastic about it. The same way he'd always been sarcastic when he was jealous of other men who got more of her attention in public.  
  
It was just what Remy had said. She had been using Axis, but not for herself. She wanted to make Rory jealous.  
  
Rory groaned and buried his head under a pillow. Didn't she understand the risks? Didn't she realize he had no choice but to be with Reed? And even if he hadn't, it wasn't as though he could just walk out the door with Remy. He was property, and she was his twin sister. They'd never be able to live as lovers in the open.  
  
And yet, a small part of him felt better for it. Even if it was twisted beyond imagining, there was still someone in this place who paid attention to him. That cared whether he lived or died.  
  
He slept poorly.  
  
Rory woke at the crack of dawn, forcibly pulled upright by a burning pain in his gut. For a disoriented moment he thought he was dying, that this pain was some sort of cosmic punishment for his sins. Then he burped, the pain ebbed, and he realized it was just gas.  
  
There was no point in going back to bed. Rory dressed and went downstairs to prepare the day's meals.  
  
He stared at the bit of counter where Remy had been last night. It looked clean enough, but… glancing around surreptitiously, Rory leaned over and sniffed it. It smelled… about how you'd expect a counter to smell.  
  
Still, he didn't think he'd be dicing vegetables on that particular spot for some time.  
  
Rory had experimented with new dishes when he first started working in this kitchen, since there weren't a lot of options. Now that he'd had a chance to buy his own ingredients… well, he was used to cooking for a more refined palette. He'd gotten herbs and spices and imported produce under the assumption that Reed would be sampling his work. It all seemed like such a waste now.  
  
Might as well use what he'd bought. Cherry tomatoes, gruyere and sweet ricotta, olive oil, basil… there was no reason to put all the effort into a quiche when most of it would be eaten by servants and Claret. A galette would do just fine.  
  
Rory knew the red wine they had was for Reed, but since he only seemed to drink one glass per visit, Rory somewhat spitefully decided he could poach pears in a cup and a half of Reed's favorite vintage.  
  
And for dessert, which Reed would be ignoring anyway… how had Rory forgotten to buy cinnamon? Oh well, he'd make some other kind of bun. He could use some chocolate and maybe nuts… hazelnuts? He didn't have hazelnuts. Walnuts? He'd figure it out after he'd made the dough.  
  
Rory threw himself into the menu, trying not to think about what the rest of his day was like. That was the best part about working on so many things at once- you never had the time to sit and let your mind wander from the present. _Set aside the pears. Put the galette in the oven. Mix together the chocolate and walnuts with… amaretto._  
  
"That smells good." Linneus was standing in the doorway, wearing one of the gaudiest jewel encrusted necklaces Rory had ever seen, and that was saying something where Linneus was concerned. "Do you need any help?"  
  
"Oh, I'm fine." Rory realized belatedly it would have been more gracious to accept his offer, but really, he was fine. He couldn't actually tell if Linneus was offended or not. He was a hard person to read.  
  
"I see." Linneus smiled faintly. "Is this all for Lord Reed?"  
  
Rory turned away before Linneus could see how annoyed the question made him. "N-no. It's for you and Claret and… Mercutio. And Lilith."  
  
"That's very thoughtful of you." Rory heard Linneus opening the cabinet behind him. "Do you mind if I boil some water for tea?"  
  
"Sure. I mean, no, I don't mind." Galette was almost done. He'd have to take it out and put the buns in soon. "Where did you get that necklace?"  
  
"It was a present from a friend of mine."  
  
That made Rory turn around. "A friend?" he said skeptically.  
  
"Gilder," Linneus said, composed as ever. "You might have passed him in the hallway once."  
  
"Your new client?" Rory said, somewhat puzzled. "I don't think I did. He really bought you that?"  
  
"You'd remember him. Broad shoulders, big smile, ring in his ear, a bit scruffy." There was a warmth in Linneus' voice that Rory didn't think he'd ever heard before, which was a somewhat depressing revelation. The smile dropped off Linneus' face when he noticed the way Rory was looking at him. "I suppose Lord Reed hasn't given you this sort of present. I'm sorry-- in his own way I'm sure he feels he's being generous."  
  
"I don't want a necklace," Rory said tartly. To think that was what Linneus assumed was bothering him! He'd clearly played the role of lovestruck teenager too well. Or else he had just received an insight into the mysterious Linneus. Maybe that was how Linneus measured out his self worth, in presents from other men. "It looks very nice on you," Rory added, perhaps a little too late.  
  
"Thank you." Linneus touched the necklace, as though he couldn't quite believe it was real. "He's an unusually kind man. I don't think I've met anyone like him before."  
  
That was a pretty depressing insight right there. Rory checked the oven and pulled out the galette, replacing it with the buns. "I'm happy for you," he said, finally. "You definitely deserve someone nice after that last…"  
  
Linneus' face had gone blank. "Liard, you mean?"  
  
Okay, he probably should not have brought that up. "Yeah. Sorry. I, uh… well, Claret was talking about him based on something Argent said, so I thought-" Quick, distraction tactic. "I mean, I know it's weird with clients and you don't always know whether you should be complaining or sucking it up. Especially when they're… I should really stop talking, shouldn't I?" Rory hoped Linneus would fill in the gaps with whatever he wanted to hear. He didn't dare look at him.  
  
"Rory…" Oh thank god, not an angry voice. "Is everything all right between you and Lord Reed?"  
  
_Perfect_. "N-no! It's fine. It's better than fine. It's really… not what I expected." Rory heaved a dramatic sigh and glanced up at Linneus through his bangs. "Do your clients… talk to you, at all?"  
  
Linneus frowned. "Sometimes, yes."  
  
"They don't… complain, right?"  
  
"Is this about the toys?" Linneus put a hand on Rory's shoulder. "Tell him it's difficult without him around. He should like that."  
  
"But that's just it!" Rory burst out. "He doesn't! He treats me like I'm not even a person! The nicer I am to him, the nastier he gets!" No need to fake the tears of frustration that were welling up in his eyes. "What is the point of paying so much money to have me all to himself if he doesn't even like me? And it's not like it's something I can help! He told me last time he didn't even like my body, that I wasn't his _type_ , like I was the one who asked for him and he was doing me some kind of great favor by deigning to settle for me! What am I supposed to do with that?"  
  
To Rory's surprise, since he was just about vibrating with pent up fury, Linneus hugged him. "Sssh…" Rory felt his hair being petted, the way his mother used to do. That, more than anything else, was what got him sobbing in earnest.  
  
After a while, Rory pulled away. "The buns are burning," he said thickly, and turned back to the oven.  
  
He wondered if he'd blown it. If they'd all start talking now about how miserable Reed was making Rory. Or if, worst of all, someone would tell Reed. It would all be over then, and Rory would have to start up with a whole new person who might not be half as well placed in the palace…  
  
"Sometimes," Linneus said softly, "men… have trouble admitting they have feelings for other men."  
  
Relief washed over Rory. It was fine. In fact, it was better than fine. Instead of taking it as the confession of loathing it was, Linneus was convinced now that Rory was in love. He couldn't have planned it more perfectly.  
  
And he'd never felt so alone.  
  
"I can't imagine someone saying things like that to you," Rory said, carefully directing the conversation in the way he thought it was headed.  
  
Linneus leaned against the counter. "I was young and awkward once too. No one hated my body as much as I did."  
  
Rory blinked. He hadn't quite expected that level of honesty so quickly. Maybe Linneus was as exhausted with his own mysteriousness as Rory was.  
  
Linneus lifted a smooth coiffed pink strand of hair between his thumb and forefinger. "I didn't always look like this, believe me." He gestured to the rest of his body.  "Hours and days and weeks, modeling myself on others. But no one likes to hear about the effort. _Men_ aren't supposed to care."  
  
It did make sense-- the only people Rory had ever known who moved like Linneus were women who were expected to be ornaments to their husbands. It was actually weirdly comforting to know that Linneus was consciously emulating them. "I think it's way more impressive that you had to learn. I mean, that takes dedication."  
  
"Dedication." Linneus wasn't really looking at Rory now. "You could say that." His voice hardened. "Someone used to tell me that I smelled so good, that no one else smelled like me. I suppose I was lucky no one else was using rosewater perfume to cover up their sweat."  
  
Rory found it hard to believe that anyone wouldn't recognize the smell of roses as artificial, but then again he didn't really know where Linneus had come from. He did, at least, understand wanting to escape the person you were before, even if he thought making yourself look like a woman was a weird way of doing that. "Were you happier, once you'd figured it out? I mean, did you stop hating yourself?"  
  
Linneus was silent.  
  
"Hey, something smells delicious!" Claret sailed in, oblivious to the somber mood.  
  
"Thanks. The cherry tomato-gruyere galette should be cool enough to eat now, and you can have some of the pears in red wine." Rory covered the buns to keep them warm, at least temporarily.  
  
"You're the best, Rory," Claret said fervently, pulling out utensils. "Did you guys hear? Atros is thinking of cleaning out one of the old rooms so whoever replaces Axis can have a better place to stay!"  
  
"Which old room?" Linneus said immediately.  
  
"Mmmm," Claret gave Rory a thumbs up as she popped a pear slice in her mouth. "His dad's office? I didn't even know there was a second office."  
  
"You didn't hear this from Atros, did you?" Rory couldn't imagine Atros chatting with Claret. Or anyone who wasn't Lilith, really.  
  
Claret shook her head, cutting herself a piece of the galette. "Argent told me. She was gonna help him, but he turned her down. I wonder why nobody's been using it all this time?"  
  
"Ghosts," Linneus said softly. "There was a murder-suicide."  
  
Rory and Claret stared at him. _"Murder-suicide?!"_  
  
"Wait, you were _there?!"_  
  
"Ten years ago. I was the only courtesan that didn't get sold off after that." Linneus smiled the falsest smile Rory had ever seen. "I was the youngest."  
  
Claret counted on her fingers. "Wouldn't that make you about sixteen, at the time? And you started before that? I know the Teahouse used to be illegal, but that's like… _really_ illegal."  
  
"It was my choice. Did anyone talk to Axis before he left?"  
  
Rory turned around quickly, looking for some excuse to hide his sudden blush. "Didn't even see him." _And I'm glad he's gone._  
  
"I wanted to congratulate him but he was so _mean_ about it," Claret grumbled. "It's not my fault the king likes a challenge. It doesn't mean Axis is better than I am or anything. I mean, I didn't even really get a chance!"  
  
"Well, maybe it's better this way," Rory said absently, arranging the buns in a basket with napkins. "He did break in two doors. Do you really want to be a violent man's concubine?"  
  
"He's the king," Claret insisted. "And I'm sure he won't hurt Axis again. All he has to do is be faithful, and…"  
  
They all finished the sentence in their heads- _if he isn't, there's nothing any of us can do to help him._  
  
"I'm going to get some air," Rory said, after a moment. "No one's in the courtyard today, right?"  
  
"Too hot," Claret confirmed. "Hey, speaking of which, who gave you that amazing necklace, Linneus?"  
  
Rory had to shield his eyes as soon as he stepped out into the courtyard. The sun was almost blinding, and he understood why no one was seeing guests here today. Still, it meant he might get a few moments to himself, especially since as far as he knew none of the maids did any garden work.  
  
He sat on one of the garden seats under the shade of a tree, and tried to remember one of the movements of a symphony Mother had taken him to when he was small and she still did that sort of thing. He hummed a little to himself, in case it jogged any memories.  
  
And then, from somewhere behind him, Rory heard a rich baritone begin to sing. He whirled around, but all he saw were hedges. It wasn't a song Rory recognized, but it sounded like a love song.  
  
To Rory's shock, Mercutio stepped into sight, and finished the phrase with a triumphant flourish. "Speechless? I usually have that effect."  
  
"Because you gag people. Hilarious."  
  
"Only if you ask nicely."  
  
The best way to deal with Mercutio that Rory had found was not to rise to his bait. "I didn't know you sang."  
  
"Well, you never asked," Mercutio said lightly. "What was that you were humming? Sounded nice."  
  
"Just something I heard once. I can't really remember it now." Rory frowned. "I think this is a new record for you talking to me without getting creepy."  
  
Mercutio leaned in. "Sorry to disappoint, puppy."  
  
"That is so not what I meant." Rory threw his hands up. "What are you even doing out here?"  
  
"Same thing as you, I'd imagine." Mercutio pulled back. "Air. Change of scenery. Killing time between depravities."  
  
Rory sighed. "Well, you sounded nice. I've never heard that song before."  
  
For a moment, Mercutio's manic grin softened. "It was never performed. At least, as far as I know. But thank you."  
  
Before Rory could process what that was about, Mercutio was gone.  
  
Well, he'd forgotten the symphony entirely. It had somehow merged into one of the salon's favorites, an old Veronese piece about cruel love. Depressingly appropriate, really.  
  
Rory hummed a bit and then, seeing no one else, sang, _"Sebben, crudele, mi fai languir…"_  
  
He was just starting to get confident when an all too familiar voice said, in a tone of utmost disdain, "You're in the wrong key."  
  
Lord Reed.  
  
Rory sprang up. "You're early! I mean, good afternoon."  
  
Reed gave him a long expressionless look, as if he had not spoken. "I did not realize you knew any Veronese."  
  
He was from Verone. Rory had forgotten. "Not really. I mean, I know some songs and what they mean, but I never learned…" He faltered. Had he finally found a point of connection? Was Reed perhaps homesick and longing to hear his native language?  
  
"Your accent was acceptable." Rory blinked. Was that… a compliment?  
  
Reed turned away. "Come inside. I've brought a gift for you."  
  
_Huh._ Maybe Rory _was_ getting somewhere.  
  
Trying to keep his expectations low, Rory hurried after him. After last time… maybe Reed wanted to apologize. Maybe he'd gotten a little attached. Maybe… maybe Linneus was right.  
  
It didn't need to be much. Just enough to get Reed to buy Rory, maybe get him set up somewhere with a proper job. Or enough for Reed to personally give Rory the money to buy himself, but that was fairly unlikely on the whole.  
  
Hope flared up in Rory when Reed opened the door for him. That was respect, right? And then in his room… there was a vase of red roses that had most certainly not been there when Rory left. Unoriginal, but unmistakable, especially coming from a nobleman.  
  
"Oh," he breathed. "You didn't have to do that." Had he finally gotten Reed where he wanted him?  
  
He felt Reed's hand on his shoulder. "They made me think of you. Does it please you?"  
  
"Yes," Rory said fervently. Red was good. Red meant he was serious.  
  
Reed kissed him, and Rory pushed his future plans out of his mind. Red meant passion, and passion took concentration.  
  
_Like there's no one else on earth._ "Oh," Rory sighed, melting into Reed's arms.  
  
_But not too passive. Like you need it._ Rory slipped his hand under Reed's jacket, unbuttoning his shirt so he could kiss the bared skin. So pale and unyielding, Rory was always a little surprised when it wasn't cold like marble.  
  
Reed let go to pull off his own clothes, so Rory obligingly began to undress himself. Then he realized he wasn't hard, and thought better of it.  
  
_Gosh,_ Rory thought, pretending to be too entranced by Reed's increasing nudity to remember what he was doing, _I'm just so overcome, sir, I can barely keep my hands off you. Help me with my mystifying zipper, will you?_  
  
While he waited for Reed to meet his wide, guileless eyes, Rory's mind sped through various surefire resolve stiffeners.  
  
And then he thought, _what if Remy saw me like this?_  
  
That did the trick.  
  
Reed met his eyes. Rory smiled, first in a dreamy blissful way and then, as Reed drew closer, gradually to the way he knew looked like Remy.  
  
What would his sister do? Rory grasped Reed's erection, stroking it slowly, lightly enough to be more teasing than satisfying. Reed leaned over him and slid his hand down the back of Rory's pants. _Here we go again. For a person with OCD, you sure do love my ass._  
  
Rory took the excuse to let go, and moan as if the finger viciously rubbing against him was actually a pleasure.  
  
"Please," he gasped. _Please get on with it._  
  
Reed kissed him deeply, his hand mercifully stilling. "On the bed."  
  
_Right._ Rory pulled off his shirt and crawled, with deliberate slowness, to the head of the bed. Position? He could just present himself, but this was supposed to be a romantic moment. How was he going to get rid of his pants now?  
  
In a reasonably fluid motion, Rory managed to unzip his pants and swing his arm around so he was sprawled out on his back, cock and balls free and available. Though, knowing Reed, he was unlikely to do much with them.  
  
He had just enough warning from Reed hooking his fingers in the material at Rory's ankles to dig the heels of his hands into the bedding so Reed didn't drag him off the bed along with his pants.  
  
Not for the first time, Rory wondered why they always had to both be completely naked.  
  
Reed tossed Rory a bottle of oil, which he barely managed to catch. Given Reed's intent stare, the message was clear. _Put on a show._  
  
_Good thing I've been practicing._ The memory of last night made Rory's cock twitch, even as a fresh wave of shame rippled through him. Shame had never been a deterrent from arousal.  
  
Hiking his knees up and spreading his legs felt less than erotic, but Rory had to get access to his hole somehow, and he was at a temporary loss for other positions that didn't involve him turning around or not showing Reed enough to satisfy. For the most part he'd gathered his client's preferences from trial and error, and was less than confident about what he had, but Rory did think that Reed liked watching things go into Rory.  
  
Rory shifted against the pillows, propping himself up so the angle wasn't too much of a strain, and poured a generous amount of oil onto the fingers of his right hand. He cupped his balls with his left, in a way which appeared to be so he had a clearer route to lubricate his ass, but was actually so he could subtly stimulate himself. Not that being stretched by his own fingers didn't feel good, but Rory knew from experience that after a while it started to get more frustrating than sexy if that was the only point of contact. And the more aroused he could make himself, the less unpleasant what followed would be.  
  
Rory looked at Reed with his sister's smile again. _Did you ever have to do this, Remy?_  
  
Keeping his eyes on the man, Rory worked his finger in, circling and focusing on anything else so he could stay relaxed. _Remy. Do I look like you now? Have you ever had to touch yourself in front of a man to get what you wanted?_ He was making the transition now from heavy breathing to moaning, deliberately exaggerating his facial expressions and noise levels, for Reed's benefit and for his own. Noises helped. Reed never made noises.  
  
He was actually relieved when Reed gestured for him to stop. His arm and shoulder were beginning to hurt, and his ass felt slimy in a fairly unsexy way. Rory handed off the bottle, and understood by the lack of commands that he'd be taken in the same position. This was slightly more uncomfortable than all fours, but at least his cock got some stimulation, however unintentional, from Reed's stiff abs.  
  
Reed knelt on the bed before Rory, and Rory made his mind a blank. An almost blank. As blank as he could. He smiled stupidly up at Reed.  
  
Reed pushed in.  
  
_Sebben crudele_  
  
Rory moved his head while keeping his body as still and relaxed as possible, fluttering his eyelashes, hoping it came off as if he was overcome with pleasure rather than trying not to look at Reed.  
  
_Mi fai languir_  
  
Rory's insides made way for Reed, and Rory hitched his legs up to help them, even if it meant his legs were on Reed's shoulders.  
  
_Sempre fedele_  
  
The initial entry was always the most difficult part. After that, his body succumbed easily enough.  
  
_Sempre fedele_  
_ti volglio amar_  
  
And now, the pulling back. Rory arched his body ever so slightly and took in breath for the next movement.  
  
_Sebben crudele_  
  
"Oh!" Rory gasped.  
  
_Mi fai languir_  
  
"Yes!" Rory moaned.  
  
_Sempre fedele_  
_tio voglio amar_  
  
Rory moved his hips into the movement as he cried out, getting some contact for his neglected cock.  
  
_Con la lunghezza_  
  
Thank God, he was speeding up.  
  
_Del mio servir_  
  
"Mmm," Rory sighed.  
  
_La tua fierezza_  
  
"Un, yes," Rory groaned.  
  
_La tua fierezza_  
  
"That's so good!" Rory gasped.  
  
_Saprò stancar_  
  
"Oh!" Rory cried out.  
  
_La tua fierezza_  
  
He was really being pounded now, which was a good sign as far as how much longer this could go on.  
  
_Saprò stancar_  
  
A good sign, because the fullness was starting to feel uncomfortable, the weirdness of the movement more noticeable than the arousal.  
  
_Sebben crudele_  
  
"Yes!" Rory moaned, just managing to turn his head in time to avoid getting the sweat from Reed's brow in his mouth.  
  
_Mi fai languir_  
  
"I need it!" Rory gasped.  
  
_Sempre fedele_  
  
If Rory could get himself to come, Reed would finish sooner.  
  
_Sempre fede...le_  
  
He couldn't think of anything to push himself over the edge.  
  
_ti vo...glio amar_  
  
All he could do was moan and wonder if Reed thought he was the breathing version of one of his "gifts" to Rory. Why had Reed even bothered to buy him flowers? There was nothing romantic about this. Reed couldn't even manage to crack a smile when he was balls deep in Rory, let alone make any gestures of reassurance or comfort or tenderness. Was this what it was like for women? Was this what it was like for everyone? Was this what Remy felt like?  
  
_S-sebben crudele_  
  
He had agreed to this.  
  
_Mi f-fai languir_  
  
If this was what he'd done to Remy, it was only fair that someone did it to him.  
  
_Sempre fedele_  
_t…i..._  
  
Ignore Reed, ignore the pain in his back, ignore the way both his legs were falling asleep from the odd position, focus on the physical realities of the act, how it felt to be stretched open and rammed like butter being churned.  
  
_voglio amar_  
  
And it did feel good.  
  
_SEBBEN cruDELE_  
_mi fai LANGUIR_  
  
(Now, at least)  
  
_SEMPRE FEDELE_  
  
He was worthless  
  
_SEMPRE FEDLE TI VOGLIO AMAR!_  
  
Rory came, finally, all over Reed's chest, with a vocal enthusiasm he did not feel.  
  
Reed had to be done soon, it was ridiculous. And Rory hated how it felt when Reed was still in him after Rory finished. As Remy might have put it, like being unable to take a massive shit.  
  
_Sebben crudele_  
_Mi fai languir_  
_Sempre fedele-_  
  
And there he went, at last, betrayed by the twitching of his arms and the altered rhythm of his thrusts. Reed's face was as stony when he came as it was when he asked for a clean glass of wine.  
  
_ti voglio amar_  
  
Reed pulled out, too slowly, and collapsed next to Rory, who carefully set down his legs and slid forward, hoping he wouldn't get a sudden cramp in his back.  
  
_I will never,_ Rory vowed, _ever do that to another human being._  
  
His moment of internal contemplation was interrupted when Reed turned and curled around Rory. Rory quickly masked his confusion and leaned into Reed's body, even submitting to the gorilla-like hair fiddling. _Okay, maybe he actually does think he loves me. In the weirdest way possible._  
  
"That was nice," Rory said warmly (he could go gag at his own insincerity later). "I've never gotten red roses before."  
  
"I spoke with a good friend who has more experience in romances than I."  
  
"Romances?" Rory managed to keep himself from laughing, but only just. "That's sweet of you. What did he say?"  
  
"That I should treat you as if you were a girl."  
  
Rory's stomach dropped. "What?"  
  
He must have tensed noticeably, because Reed shifted against him and said in his ear, as thought he thought Rory was hard of hearing, "He said you were like a girl."  
  
It was as though everything else in the room narrowed down to a single painful speck, and then came blazing back in a cacophony of brightly lit misery. He was furious. He was actually already beyond furious, to the point where he'd circled back around and become calm again.  
  
"Get out." Rory's voice was even, but his blood was boiling.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
Rory ripped himself out of Reed's grip and onto his feet. "I said _GET OUT!"_  
  
Reed raised an eyebrow and sat up. "I do not understand."  
  
Rory shook his head, vibrating with fury. "You don't understand? Really? Why am I not surprised? It's very simple, actually. _I AM NOT A GIRL!"_  
  
"Of course you aren't, or I wouldn't be fucking you," Reed said coldly. "Is this childish temper tantrum over?"  
  
Rory yanked open his drawer and hurled the solid gold toy at Reed's head, which Reed dodged just in time. "Why did you have to be such a fucking _asshole?!_ Where do you get off criticizing other people, anyway? I mean, you think I'm girly? I'm not the one with stupid manicured nails and stupidly long hair! And guess what? I _hate_ your stupid hair!"  
  
He was struggling not to cry now, but there was no fucking way he was crying, not this time, not after Remy had made fun of him time after time for acting like a little girl. If he had to stop crying to prove he was a goddamned man, he wouldn't shed one tear.  
  
It helped too that Reed had actually made a facial expression, albeit a subtle one. As Reed slowly got off the bed and picked up his clothing, there was something like confusion writ in his face. Which only made Rory angrier.  
  
"I don't even like flowers," Rory snarled. "Do you even know what red roses _mean?_ Or did you just buy them because they reminded you of my hair? Hey, I'm talking to you!"  
  
Reed ignored Rory, choosing instead to fasten his pants.  
  
"Treat me like a girl?" Rory yanked the flowers out of the vase and hurled the vase at the back of Reed's head.  
  
Reed must have heard something, because he managed to sidestep the vase, which shattered against the window.. Still, when he turned around, there was a rare look of naked surprise in Reed's eyes.  
  
Rory felt oddly euphoric. "If you think that's bad, you should see my sister when she gets angry. You think I'm girly, huh? You sure don't know much about girls."  
  
Reed collected his last item of clothing. "Clearly, I haven't been missing much."  
  
Rory flung the door open. "Leave!"  
  
"I have half a mind to register a complaint," Reed said, stepping into the hall.  
  
"Go right ahead!" Rory hollered after him, and slammed the door shut.  
  
It was only when he was finally alone that Rory all but collapsed onto the floor.  
  
What had he done?  
  
What was he going to do?  
  
_I couldn't do it,_ he thought dimly. _I just couldn't. It's one thing to use me and tell me you didn't even enjoy using me, but… but I'm still a man. Fucking me doesn't make me not myself._  
  
_Although, maybe it does. I was who I thought he wanted me to be._  
  
_But it turns out he wanted a girl all along_.  
  
He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't breathe, but he wouldn't cry. Remy always told him how weak he was for crying. How manipulative it was. And Remy had been right about Reed all along.  
  
He couldn't- he couldn't… _breathe._  
  
Rory heard rather than saw the door open, he was trying so hard to get air but he kept letting sobs out instead, and he couldn't remember how to take a long, satisfying, real breath, and his vision was all blurred from the tears he was not letting spill out.  
  
A silver arm wrapped around his chest. Argent. "Don't force yourself to keep it in. You're hyperventilating. Do whatever you need to do to breathe."  
  
Rory let out a strangled sob, and hated himself.  
  
"It's just me," Argent said quietly, so quietly it took Rory a moment to realize what she had said. "I don't care."  
  
Once he started sobbing and crying, big awful noisy gasps of shame, the air came back into his lungs. He could see again, too, and appreciated that Argent had closed the door.  
  
Was that how everyone saw him here? Another Linneus, with a woman's tastes and mannerisms and appearance, only male with his clothes off?  
  
He realized, after a while, that he'd neglected to put his clothes back _on,_ and should probably be embarrassed about that.  
  
"Could, um, could you get me a towel or something?" Rory mumbled.  
  
Argent stood without a word. He guessed that was a 'yes' but it was hard to know with her. He'd only even realized she was a woman after Claret talked about what "she" was doing. And Linneus did tend to throw off one's sense of gender recognition.  
  
_It doesn't even make sense. Gilder is Linneus' client, and he's just about the butchest guy that comes around here. No one calls Axis girly, and he even gets to fuck women._  
  
_Women like Remy…_  
  
Argent handed Rory his bathrobe. "Are you all right? Should I talk to Atros?"  
  
Rory almost laughed, but managed to keep it together as he slipped on the robe. "No. No, I need…" He hesitated.  
  
He needed to talk to someone that understood what was going on. Someone that wouldn't give useless advice or trite platitudes. Someone that actually knew him.  
  
"Get Remy. I need to talk to my sister."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Shakespeare's Hamlet. Sebben crudele is an aria/Italian standard composed by Antonio Caldara in 1710. Translation via Wikipedia: 
> 
> Although, cruel love,  
> you make me languish,  
> I will always  
> love you true.  
> With the patience  
> of my serving  
> I will be able to tire out  
> your pride.


	3. I Have A Heart That's Made Of Wood

At first Remy thought the albino was playing some kind of a prank on her.  
  
"Rory wants to see me?" Remy repeated in disbelief. "What, has a client decided he wants a twin sandwich?"  
  
It was kind of fun, being the only person who could get a reaction out of Silver. Sure, the reaction was always horror, but it beat stoicism any day.  
  
"Lord Reed has left the Teahouse," Silver said stiffly. "Rory is quite distressed."  
  
Remy's stomach plummeted. "What happened? What did he do?"  
  
"Your brother won't tell me. He only wants to see you."  
  
When Remy reached Rory's room, she was surprised by her lack of feeling. _This was what you wanted, wasn't it? He asked for you._  
  
She just hadn't expected him to give up so quickly. It wasn't like him.  
  
_And what if this has nothing to do with last night? What if he's gotten hurt?_  
  
_Stop it. Just open the door._  
  
All the sheets had been pulled off Rory's bed again, the pillows lying in a pile next to them. Rory stood by the table in a thin orange robe, his wet hair suggesting he'd recently showered. There were long stemmed red roses on the table, and he'd broken the blossom off one to twirl it between his fingers.  
  
Remy stared.  
  
"He brought me roses," Rory said abruptly. "Do you know what red roses mean?"  
  
Remy shook her head. There was broken glass by the window, and a great wet spot beneath it. Her thoughts swam at the sight, bobbing up and down like the waves she'd thrown herself into so many times.  
  
"No one buys flowers for a man." Rory looked at her then. "Did they buy flowers for you, too?"  
  
"No," Remy whispered.  
  
It was unbearable seeing him like this. She was supposed to keep him safe. _She_ was the bad one, not Rory. Never Rory. He'd never done anything wrong. He didn't deserve this.  
  
Rory tossed the flower on the floor. "What's gotten into you? Shouldn't you be saying 'I told you so' about now? You were right and I was wrong. Get it over with and gloat already."  
  
He reached for the thorny stem of another rose, and, without thinking, Remy rushed to him and seized his wrist before he could touch it. _"Don't!_ You'll cut yourself."  
  
Rory's face softened at last, and he looked at her, really looked at her with that sorrow that dug into Remy like a switchblade. "Remy? Remy, are you really all right?"  
  
She wanted to speak, but instead she threw her arms around him and pulled him close to her, burying her face in his sweet-smelling neck. _No, I'm not all right. I'll never be all right again, because I love you so much._  
  
Slowly, Rory's arms wrapped around her as well. "I'm sorry, Remy," he murmured into her hair. "I didn't think it would upset you like this."  
  
Remy could have punched him. "You think I don't care? You think I followed you all the way here because I don't care?"  
  
She felt him stroking her back. "You sure have a funny way of showing it. But it's all right. No bruises, just my pride."  
  
Remy pulled away, though she kept her arms around him. "Rory, don't you dare lie to me. What did he do?"  
  
Rory rolled his eyes and exhaled. "He shows up early, saying he has a present for me. It's the bouquet, and he starts kissing me and saying how he was thinking of me or whatever. We… do the usual, and afterwards we're talking about why he bought me flowers and he says…" Rory's voice tightens. "He says he took some advice from a friend to treat me just like I was a girl."  
  
_The frilly aprons might have confused him._ "Well, I don't see why he put in the effort if he didn't care what you thought."  
  
Rory's fingers dug into the small of Remy's back. "But don't you see? So what if he thinks he's in love with me? He thinks he's in love with me because I'm _like a girl_. I make him think he's fucking masculine! Do you have any idea what that feels like?"  
  
"And I suppose there's nothing worse in your mind than being a girl," Remy said bitterly. "You're his possession either way. What does it matter if you're being used like a girl or a girly boy?"  
  
_"It matters to me!"_  
  
"So it was you who threw the vase." Judging by the way he was shaking Remy now, at least.  
  
"It was worth it to see him actually react." Rory relaxed a little and asked, "You haven't met him, have you?"  
  
"No, but I don't need to," Remy said defensively. She'd seen him, anyway, but Rory didn't need to know that.  
  
Rory's hands dropped to his sides and he gazed off at some point in the distance. "I have no idea what he expects of me. Does he think I'm just going to be pathetically grateful?"  
  
"Does he tell you to be grateful?"  
  
Rory frowned. "What?"  
  
"Does he say, 'you should be grateful'?" Remy repeated, irritated.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then that has nothing to do with it." Remy stared her brother down. "What _does_ he say to you?"  
  
Rory rubbed the back of his neck. "Criticizes me, mostly. Says he doesn't like this, doesn't like that. Even his presents are complaints… well, except for the roses. That's why I got so mad."  
  
"Well, that doesn't make any sense," Remy muttered. "No one buys solid gold anything just to be passive aggressive."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I- wait, how did you know about that?"  
  
Remy turned it over in her head, looking around the room. She knew her brother. He would be playing it to the hilt, adoring and devoted as a newborn puppy. What's more, the man had gone out of his way to buy a virgin. The criticisms couldn't be real, because if he was really dissatisfied he'd just stop paying and walk away.  
  
"Remy," Rory repeated, louder, "how did you know what Reed bought me?"  
  
"He's trying to control you."  
  
Rory stared at Remy. "What do you mean?"  
  
"That's what he's doing." Remy muttered, increasingly certain. "He's objecting to everything because he's trying to motivate you. He wants you to want to please him, to go out of your way to be what he wants. And he could have just bought what he wants but that wouldn't be any fun for him. Instead he's planning on molding you."  
  
Rory said nothing.  
  
At first Remy thought he hadn't heard her, but before she could get angry, Rory ripped the flower off another rose, and another one, and another one.  
  
"Rory, your hands!"  
  
Rory whirled around and threw a stem at her. "Oh, because _you've_ never done destructive things? Don't think I've forgotten you cutting your finger to get Axis' attention!"  
  
"Well, I hope you're not planning on making lemonade," Remy snapped, though the stinging would serve him right. "Or washing your hands, or- just cut it out!"  
  
She dragged Rory from the ruined bouquet, making sure to steer him away from the windows and broken glass, since he wasn't wearing any shoes.  
  
"He put your finger in his mouth," Rory muttered.  
  
Remy had wanted him to be jealous, but this was just getting annoying. She kissed both palms of his scratched hands. "Better?"  
  
Rory stared at her, a faint blush on his cheeks.  
  
For some reason, that made her angrier. "Fantastic. He's literally fucked your brains out."  
  
He must have struck her, because she felt her cheek stinging and the soreness in her jaw, but had barely seen the motion, so little warning had there been.  
  
_Good. There's still some fight left in him._  
  
"If you're done feeling sorry for yourself," Remy said coldly, "what are we going to do about this man?"  
  
Rory frowned. "We?"  
  
"Yes, we. I'm here, aren't I?" Remy crossed her arms self-consciously. "And you know he'll be back."  
  
"I'm not so certain," Rory said bitterly. "I'll probably go back to the lineup by tomorrow morning."  
  
"No, you won't. He's still trying to get his money's worth." She wasn't certain, of course, but she remembered the way the old creep had his arm over Rory, and the hideous gold plug. "He hasn't got your contract, right?"  
  
Rory shook his head. "I think it's still in Atros' study."  
  
Of course, the one place that she'd never be asked to clean. It looked like there was only one option, and it wasn't a good one. "All right. Before your client comes back, I'll join that lineup."  
  
Rory's mouth dropped open. _"What?!_ Remy, you can't!"  
  
"Watch me," Remy retorted. "I'm sick of being a maid. Clary said Eyebrows was looking for someone to replace Axis. It's not like it's hard. Then I'll find our contracts, tear them up, and we can get out of here."  
  
Rory grabbed her arm. "Remy, I won't let you do this. It's too dangerous."  
  
"If it's good enough for you, it's good enough for me," Remy snapped. Of all the times for her brother to get goddamn _protective…_ "Besides, I'm the expert fucktoy, remember?"  
  
Remy thought he was going to hit her again, but to her shock, he threw his arms around her and buried his face in her hair.  
  
"Please." She felt him saying it more than hearing it, he was so quiet. "I have to have done this for a reason. Don't humiliate yourself because of me."  
  
The anger started slow and deep in Remy's bones, crawling faster and faster until it was burning in her throat. She tried to get out of his grip, but he just held on tighter. "I don't want you to get hurt," Rory whispered.  
  
Rage thundered in her mind as Remy forced her way out of her arms, repetitive and growing louder by the second.  
  
_liar_  
_liar_  
_liar!_  
_LIAR!_  
**_LIAR!_**  
**_LIAR!!_**  
**_LIAR!!!_**  
  
_"Leave me alone!"_ Remy screamed, seizing a clock off the mantlepiece and hurling it at Rory's head.  
  
It actually scraped the side of his head, because Rory was just standing there staring at her like the stupid cunt that he was. Remy hated him for it.  
  
"How can you say this is my fault?" she choked out. "Did I tell you, _go be a prostitute, little brother?"_  
  
"No."  
  
"Did I say, _Rory, you're so obsessed with taking inventory of every single goddamned man I say two words to that you'd better just leave and suck cocks for a living?"_  
  
"Remy, that's not what I-"  
  
"And you go and leave me with fucking _Catherine_ and you have the nerve to say you don't want me to get _hurt?!"_ Rory dove for the chair but Remy got to it first, hurling it across the room where it hit the wall with a tremendously satisfying noise and cracked the wallpaper.  
  
"All my life," Remy gasped, "I thought it had to be some terrible accident that I didn't have a mother. That she really wanted me but couldn't keep me. They said it wasn't true, but what did they know, they'd never met her! I thought if I could just escape, if I could just find her, then she'd love me and it would all be okay. But they weren't lying, were they, Rory? Catherine never cared about me. When you left, she told me what she really thought, that it was all my fault. That I'd driven you away and that I was a _bad seed_ and she couldn't stand the sight of me. Fine! None of that matters! I don't need people to tell me how horrible I am! But the one thing I cannot fucking take is cowardly snivelling little _liars!"_  
  
Rory was trying to say something, but she'd had enough. Remy tore out of the room, so desperate to get downstairs she tripped and landed squat on her ass on the marble entryway.  
  
In a way, that helped. The shock of it focused her. Remy spread her fingers on the marble floor and thought, _I am here. I am here._  
  
_I shouldn't have said all of that._  
  
_It doesn't matter._  
  
_I am here._  
  
Rory, tearing the heads off roses. Remy, tearing the legs off her dolls and crying. She'd been too old for dolls anyway.  
  
"Remy?"  
  
It was one of the maids. Tinfoil? Lana?  
  
"Are you okay?" She approached Remy nervously. "Did your brother want you to clean his room again?"  
  
There was no way Remy was going back in there. She shook her head violently. "Someone else tonight. I'll do whatever else you need me to do."  
  
"It's okay," the maid said gently, holding out her hand. Remy wanted to bite it. "Tinsel can help Diamant. Lillith has a customer tomorrow morning, so you can do her room with me. Have you had anything to eat?"  
  
"I'm not hungry," Remy muttered.  
  
"All right. We'll let Tessie know."  
  
Lara (as Tessie had called her) didn't chatter on about the latest gossip like the other maids while they worked, which was good. Remy didn't feel very much like playing nice anymore.  
  
When Lara was changing the towels in the bathroom, Remy opened the drawer of Lilith's bedside table. There were two little bottles full of a thick clear substance.  
  
So, Lilith had a client tomorrow morning, did she? Remy would start there.  
  
Remy took the bottles out, stuffed them down her blouse, and closed the drawer.  
  
She didn't sleep that night. The other girls snored and tossed and turned too much.  
  
When dawn broke, Remy rose, showered and dressed, and went to sneak a peek at Tessie's schedule of client appointments.  
  
Lord Graine was the first of the day, to see Lilith. Later there was a Master Severin for Mercutio and someone pencilled in for Linneus. No listed appointments for Rory or Claret.  
  
The hard part would be getting assigned to something that required enough hands that they wouldn't notice when Remy slipped off. She didn't want Tessie searching for her.  
  
Fortunately, Tessie announced it was time to clean Linneus' valuables, which got her out of the way and left everyone disorganized that morning. It was almost absurdly simple for Remy to assign herself to door answering duty (which was something that got forgotten about so regularly apparently some of the whores had ended up doing it from time to time).  
  
Better yet, it became clear almost immediately that Lord Graine was the impatient sort. Five minutes before Lilith was scheduled to arrive, the man was tapping his foot and glancing around.  
  
"I see you aren't the kind of man that is used to waiting on other people's schedules," Remy said slyly.  
  
"What other schedules?" Lord Graine snapped.  
  
Rather taken aback, Remy was about to construct something properly sycophantic, when he held up his hand. "I apologize. I understand I am far from Lillith's only client. But I have had a trying week, and my nerves are shattered."  
  
Remy widened her eyes. "Oh, you don't have to apologize. That sounds awful. But I'm surprised you've come to see Lilith for comfort."  
  
He frowned. "Surprised?"  
  
"She's been in a bad mood this week too. Telling people off for every little thing. And now she's making her clients wait, all because someone said that was the latest fashion." Remy sighed, dramatically. "I can't believe she'd make _you_ wait, of all people. You're much more handsome than the others."  
  
It was now two past, and Lord Graine was eying Remy the way sailors look at shore after months at sea. "How is it I've never seen you before, Miss…?"  
  
"Remy," she supplied. "I've only just arrived."  
  
"You seem the enterprising sort," Graine mused. "Is your price the same as Lilith's? I do pay in advance."  
  
Remy smiled.  
  
The trouble was where to take him. Axis' room was empty, of course, but they would have to pass Lilith's in order to reach it, and Remy wasn't about to take that chance.  
  
Claiming it was a new experiment to have rooms downstairs by the servants quarters ("We could find a place with absolute privacy of course, but if you're interested in the thrill of possible discovery…") Remy led Graine past the only remaining challenge, which was the albino's room. If Silver was there and feeling nosy, Remy's little adventure might be over before it began.  
  
However, a few feet away Remy heard the unmistakable sounds of sex coming from the general vicinity. Either Silver had a very active relationship with her own hands, or Claret was in there with her.  
  
It was a good thing Remy had kept Graine in her peripheral vision, or she might have flinched when his arm snaked around her waist. As it was she had just enough warning to make it seem like a shiver of excitement.  
  
"Very good," he purred. "Wherever are you leading me, little flower?"  
  
Funny, how you could think you'd gotten away from something, and then find yourself back in the same old routine years later as though nothing had changed. She'd never really escaped, Remy realized. It had been inside her the whole time, just waiting to come out again. This was who she was, like it or not.  
  
Remy guided him over to the table, gradually, as his hands swarmed over her. She didn't have to do much. He wasn't the sort that cared.  
  
She did flinch when his hand hit the sore spot from where Rory had grabbed her yesterday.  
  
"Did someone get too rough with you, flower?"  
  
Remy shook her head. "It was a misunderstanding. It doesn't even hurt that much."  
  
To her disgust, Graine kissed her temple. "I don't like to see pretty girls getting hurt. If it happens again, you come to me, all right?"  
  
"All right," she lied.  
  
She'd rather receive pain from Rory than insipid kindness from strangers any day.  
  
A little shiver ran through Remy's body at the thought of Rory. He had restraint that a lunkhead like this one could only dream of. Even her brother's cruelty was personally tailored.  
  
She closed her eyes, and imagined Rory's kisses on the back of her neck, his nails digging into her thighs. She loved his intensity, his drive. It was almost a good thing that he went around playing at incompetence, because in his rare moments of pure confidence Remy found him almost unbearably attractive.  
  
"Have you got a condom?"  
  
Remy was abruptly brought back to the present. "What?"  
  
Graine shrugged. "Lilith usually has them. What about you?"  
  
Remy shook her head, slowly. He was giving her an idea. "There are things we can do where that doesn't matter."  
  
He raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"  
  
Remy turned around and lifted her skirts just high enough to tease. "Ever been with a boy?"  
  
"Once or twice."  
  
Remy smiled, and produced the bottle from her blouse. "Well, you can take me just the same way."  
  
_See, Rory? You're not alone. We're the same._  
  
Graine bent her over the table, facing the door. Remy spread her fingers on the scratched up wood, and thought of Rory's embrace.  
  
Rory, holding back her hair while she vomited, Rory buttoning the back of her dress… Rory unbuttoning her dress. Rory pulling her hair. Rory pinning her underneath him, and making her gasp.  
  
Rory, Rory, _always_ Rory!  
  
The door swung open to reveal an enraged Lilith, gaping at them in horrified disgust, but Remy was more concerned about who was hovering behind Lilith's shoulder.  
  
"Remy?" Rory's voice was small and uncertain.  
  
Remy moaned helplessly, not caring that she would probably have bruises on her thighs later from how hard she was being fucked against the table. _You do this to me, Rory. Do you think of me when it's happening to you?_  
  
She thought of him with his ass in the air, offering himself up. The little slut probably loved it, just like her.  
  
The man spilled himself on Remy's thighs, and Remy could have sworn for a moment she saw Rory's hand stray towards his crotch.  
  
"Atros will hear about this!" Lilith screeched. "Rory, clean up your whore of a sister. I'll be having words with her when she looks decent, _if_ such a thing is even possible!"  
  
Rory sat down, slowly, as if he hadn't heard Lilith.  
  
"The early bird catches the worm, as they say," Graine said, buttoning up his fly. "I'll be certain to pass my compliments on to Atros."  
  
"Lord Graine, I-" Lilith rushed up the stairs after him, leaving Remy and Rory alone. Again.  
  
Remy stood up and squirmed. "Hurts a little, but it's like riding a bicycle. You never really forget how."  
  
Rory glared at her. "You had a choice. You had a _choice_ , and you chose this!"  
  
"So did you," she returned.  
  
Rory buried his face in his hands. "Why did you even come here? I could have at least pretended that you were happy somewhere without me."  
  
That hurt. "I had to know. Unlike _you,_ little brother, I don't like lies. You knew what I was from the start, and you _liked_ it! In fact, I'd bet everything I have that you _still_ like it!"  
  
"I don't like it, _I hate it!"_ Rory shouted, leaping out of the chair. "I _hate_ feeling this way! _I hate you, Remy!_ I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone in my whole life!"  
  
Finally, the truth.  
  
Remy smiled, bitterly. "Isn't it a pity I don't feel the same way about you?"  
  
Rory stared at her.  
  
"You see, there's no one in this world _I_ hate so much as myself."  
  
Remy turned and walked to the stairs. Just before she set foot on them, she heard Rory yell from behind her "But why did it have to be your _ass?!"_  
  
"Why did it have to be _yours?!"_ Remy screamed, and ran up the stairs.  
  
Her throat ached, and she felt numb all over. She kept running, with no clear destination, until she slammed into the green haired girl.  
  
"Owww!" Claret moaned, clutching her stomach. "Where's the fire?"  
  
Remy was in serious danger of crying as it was, so she decided to rip a page out of Rory's handbook. "I-I'm so scared," she stammered. "Lilith said she was going to report me to Atros! What do I do?"  
  
"Aww, c'mere." Remy flinched as she was wrapped in a soft squishy hug. "It's okay, I can put in a good word for you with Argent, and she'll make sure Atros doesn't fire you."  
  
This was an unexpected bit of luck. "Argent? What can she do?"  
  
"Argent and Atros go way back," Claret confided. "Atros saved her when they were kids and they've been friends ever since. Argent's a good person to know around here. If it wasn't for her, I would've been fired ages ago."  
  
Remy didn't have to feign her disbelief. "You were going to get fired? What did you do?"  
  
"Nothing," Claret said glumly. "That's just the trouble. I never get picked. Nobody thinks much of me, except Argent. She's always loved me. She convinced Atros to let me stay even though I was only costing him money. He _listens_ to her."  
  
Something about this story didn't add up, but Remy couldn't quite put her finger on it.  
  
"But enough about me!" Claret plastered on a wide false smile. "What's going on with you, Remy? I heard that you and Rory got into a big fight yesterday after his client left."  
  
"He didn't leave, Rory kicked him out," Remy muttered.  
  
Claret's jaw dropped. "Rory _kicked him out?_ Is he okay? What happened?"  
  
Before Remy could answer, Atros appeared with Argent at his heels. "Miss Dubois. We need to speak in my office."  
  
The time for modesty was over.  
  
Remy glanced at Argent as she entered the room. As usual, she seemed about as involved in the proceedings as a block of wood. But forgetting about her was probably a bad idea. "Hi, Argent, how are you today?"  
  
Argent blinked at her. Was it actually that rare for somebody to address her when Atros was in the room?  
  
"This discussion only involves you and I," Atros said coldly, sitting down. "Lilith has accused you of stealing business from this establishment."  
  
Remy shook her head. "He said he would still pay, it just wouldn't go towards her. And she was late, you can ask anybody. Without me, he might have left and asked for his money back."  
  
He was listening, she could tell. It seemed like Lilith hadn't put it together to accuse Remy of being the cause of her lateness, that being the biggest argument against her.  
  
"I wasn't stealing from you, I was saving you money. I knew you wanted someone to take Axis' place, and I thought since I enjoy all sorts of sex that I might be your girl." Remy smiled. _However you choose to interpret that._  
  
Atros frowned. "You would no longer be an employee, in that case. We would need to draw up a contract for your sale and brand you."  
  
It was that last part that scared her. All right, _all_ of it scared her, but she had to believe she could come out the other side. She'd done it before, after all. "I know. I'm prepared."  
  
She was winning him over, she could tell. "Lilith made another accusation. She believes there is some conspiracy between you and your brother. In her hysteria, little detail was discernible, but I trust this is not true?"  
  
Remy almost laughed. "No, it's not true. You saw Rory when I came here. He had no idea I was even in the city."  
  
"Very good." Atros closed a file he'd been looking at. "I will draw up the documents within the week. Once you have signed, you will be moved from the maids' quarters into the new room that is presently being prepared. Argent stands as our witness. You may go."  
  
_Well, that was easy._  
  
Too easy, as it turned out. Remy hadn't gone ten feet before Lilith rounded the corner. _"You!_ We're going to have words in my room, right now!"  
  
"All right," Remy said sweetly. She wasn't in the least afraid of Lilith. It might be good to get some animosity out in the open, make their stances clear. If she played this right Lilith might not even have to be an opponent.  
  
"If you think you can steal another client from me, you're dreaming. Most of them have better things to do than try out trampy little girls with brother complexes," Lilith sneered.  
  
She'd struck a nerve, but Remy wasn't going to let her have the satisfaction. "Really, you look in the mirror every day and come away thinking _I'm_ the tramp? At least I'm not getting wrinkles."  
  
"You cheap little tart, how old do you think I am?"  
  
"Old enough to be a slightly more expensive tart," Remy retorted. "If you're not already rancid."  
  
"You're disgusting," Lilith snarled. "You and that mincing twin brother of yours."  
  
"You _leave him out of this!"_ Remy screamed.  
  
Lilith smirked, and Remy hated her for it. "Believe me, I'm glad to. If you wanted to burn down this place, I'd only ask you what time so I could arrange to be elsewhere." She crossed her arms. "I was an arrogant little ninny like you once. I thought I could have everything, but I ended up with nothing. Worse than nothing. Good luck stealing my clientele- it won't get you anywhere. No matter what you do, _Linneus_ will always be his favorite."  
  
Remy knew an opening when she saw it. "What's so special about Linneus?"  
  
"Nothing!" Lilith just barely managed to disguise an ugly snort. "He's a sad little boy that wants to be a woman, but his fairy godmother never arrived. And he thinks he's too good to sleep with Atros now, though the way I heard it he learned all the tricks he knows in Atros' bed."  
  
"And why do you care about any of this?" Remy was fed up with this waste of time. "If he's not sleeping with Atros, and you _are…"_  
  
"He's all Atros ever thinks about," Lilith said bitterly. "And he never lets me forget it. I wish I didn't have to hear about pathetic little Linneus all day and how Linneus used to do it, but if I complain…Well, I did complain, and now he won't even see me alone. I don't know why I bothered blaming you. You're blatantly incompetent. He probably changed the time of my appointment and moved my things around to make me late so I'd suffer for it. He's done it before."  
  
Remy knew very well Atros hadn't, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. "What do you want, Lilith?"  
  
"I want to leave!" Lilith growled. "I want to go somewhere that I'm _appreciated_ and not constantly reminded that I'm second best!"  
  
"Good, because I want you to leave," Remy said pleasantly. "Tell me who to talk to and I'll make sure you're sent off to the establishment of your choice."  
  
Lilith peered suspiciously at her. "Don't pretend you have an in with Atros. He's just too cheap to send off a troublemaker."  
  
"So should I ask Linneus?"  
  
_"No."_ Buttons sufficiently pushed, Lilith whirled on Remy. "Atros is _married_. His wife's a clingy bird brain, so I imagine the two of you will get along just fine. His father-in-law has financial control over Atros, and is the reason they're married in the first place. So if your slutty behind makes its way into that man's lap, then you'll be in a position to make demands."  
  
"Thanks ever so."  
  
"Get out."  
  
Remy was happy to.  
  
She wasn't really sure where to go after that. Did she really have to go all the way back downstairs to that horrible little room full of snoring girls with tiny horrible little windows and no light? Eyebrows said she'd have a room of her own, but when would that be? What did she have to wait for, an engraved invitation?  
  
Whatever, no one was in Axis' old room. Remy knew the door was unlocked anyway.  
  
It was like her first day all over again, only the door didn't close funny and instead of things being broken they were just… there. Dusty and lifeless.  
  
Even with no sheets on the bed, it still looked like a whore's room.  
  
Perfect for Remy, really.  
  
All of a sudden she was exhausted. It had been a long time since she slept. If she just took a little nap now, she'd probably be back up for dinner.  
  
She didn't actually know where she was supposed to have dinner.  
  
It didn't matter that the mattress was bare. Remy crawled onto it and made herself a little nest out of the pillows.  
  
She fell asleep almost immediately.  
  
_"Remy!"_  
  
Remy was shaken away what felt like minutes later by one of the other servant girls. _Oh, great, they're jealous_. "Laura?"  
  
"Lara," the maid corrected her. "What are you doing in here? It's dinnertime."  
  
"I'm not going back down there," Remy muttered. "I work upstairs now, haven't you heard?"  
  
"Yes, that's why I'm telling you it's dinnertime," Lara said irritably. "Haven't you noticed the sun's still up? You're expected in the kitchen. Your brother's just finished cooking."  
  
That woke Remy up. "Rory?"  
  
"Is that why you did it?"  
  
Remy pushed Lara away and got up. "Did what?"  
  
"Stole Lilith's client." Lara was frowning at her. "I know it was planned. You took her lubricants the night before when we were cleaning the room. Did you do it because of your brother?"  
  
Remy felt cold. What was she implying? "It's a promotion. You'd do the same thing."  
  
"No, actually, I wouldn't. And I can't think why you would think of it that way." Lara shook her head. "Am I going to have to clean up _your_ broken furniture and wash the bloodstains out of your sheets now too? You saw what Lord Reed did to Rory's room. You can't be jealous of that."  
  
"I'm hungry," Remy said shortly. "I'll see you later." She walked to the door. "Oh wait, no I won't, because I'm a courtesan and you're still a servant. Bye."  
  
She slammed the door behind her. Stupid idiot almost ruined her appetite. What business was it of Lana's, anyway? She was a grown-up, she could do what she liked. It wasn't like they'd ever been friends or anything.  
  
Remy heard Claret's loud distinctive voice just as she got to the kitchen.  
  
"Hey, Linneus, you look different today somehow!"  
  
"Do I?"  
  
Linneus was pouring himself some tea, and Claret was bouncing in her seat as she gave herself a generous helping of whatever was in the center. Mercur… Muctio… the blue haired one was scarfing it down without a word. Rory had his back to them, mixing something in a bowl.  
  
"Yeah, like-" Claret stopped abruptly. "Hey Remy! I guess it went all right with Atros." She winked.  
  
Linneus glanced at Remy in a thoroughly disinterested manner. Rory whirled around and nearly dropped his bowl.  
  
"It did," Remy said, meeting Rory's eyes and daring him to look away. "I'm one of you now."  
  
Claret clapped her hands.  
  
"Interesting," was Linneus' only comment as he turned back to the kettle.  
  
Merc-Blue-Hair swallowed, and grinned. "Fabulous! We could use some new blood around here. If that's where your interest lies…"  
  
"Shut up, Mercutio," Rory snapped.  
  
Remy's breath caught.  
  
Mercutio didn't see Rory's face. "Don't be jealous now, puppy. You're _both_ pretty, and you'll always be very special to me."  
  
"Mercutio," Linneus said, in a warning tone.  
  
"What? I'm being welcoming. Remy, how do you feel about ballgags?"  
  
Remy watched, rapt, as Rory set down the bowl loudly and gripped Mercutio's shoulder. He was trying so hard to keep himself in check in front of company. She knew she should really make his life easier and change the subject so he could go on being the Rory they thought he was, but… this could be useful.  
  
"Are you going to shut up, or do I have to make you shut up?"  
  
Mercutio glanced up. "Well, I wasn't asking you, but now we all know _your_ answer."  
  
_"Mercoofiohf!"_ Claret said indignantly around a mouthful of food.  
  
"Let's all settle down and stop playing games," Linneus said, looking at no one in particular. "Rory's made us a wonderful meal. What did you say it was?"  
  
"Polenta," Rory muttered. "With garlic shrimp and cherry tomatoes."  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
There was something _off_ about Linneus. Maybe it was because Remy hadn't really encountered her (wait, Linneus was a man, right?) before, but looking at him made her feel intensely creeped out. It was like he was there and _not_ there at the same time.  
  
Remy sat between Claret and Mercutio. She hoped Mercutio wasn't the physically affectionate type, but she had to be on one side of him either way and Claret was a much better option than dead-eyed Linneus. Hopefully Claret was right and there was just something different today. She hated to think the man would be like this all the time.  
  
Rory dumped a ladleful of salad on Mercutio's plate. "Spinach, pine nuts, gruyere and strawberry vinagrette. Go ahead and stuff your gross face."  
  
"My gross face thanks you." Mercutio picked up his fork. "Remy, your brother is astonishingly rude. My condolences."  
  
"The food looks delicious, Rory," Remy said innocently.  
  
Rory ignored her.  
  
Claret frowned. "What's gotten into him?"  
  
"Never mind," Linneus said, as Rory made his way around the table, clearly planning on either ignoring Remy altogether or serving her last. "I think we've all had a long day, and some crankiness goes with the territory."  
  
Remy opened her eyes wide. "Mercutio, I don't think I really understand what it is you do for your clients. Could you explain?"  
  
Mercutio beamed. "Oh, I'd be happy to demonstrate! At your convenience, of course. And there are some ground rules we should go over. And you'll need a safeword…"  
  
Rory was circling towards them, but Remy pretended not to notice. "Well, I'm always open to new experiences. Why, once I even slept with a virgin!"  
  
The bowl clattered onto the floor and Remy's head was jerked back so roughly that she saw stars. She could feel Rory's hands tangled in her hair, still pulling and not giving an inch. His grip was so sure, it sent shivers down her spine.  
  
"Rory, _stop!"_ Claret must have jumped to her feet. "Stop that right now! You let her go!"  
  
He did, to Remy's disappointment. Mercutio was staring at them in shock, his fork lying on the plate with spinach still stuck to it.  
  
Linneus glanced in their direction, expression inscrutable. "Rory, take your helping and go to your room. Such behavior does not become a courtesan of the Teahouse."  
  
"How could you do a thing like that to your own sister?" Claret demanded.  
  
Remy felt Rory's hand seize her wrist, and she turned to find herself almost nose to nose with his furious face. Almost unconsciously, she licked her lips.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered.  
  
"You liar! You always do this!" Rory hissed at her. "One day, you're going to push me too far, Remy."  
  
And with that, he stormed out.  
  
"Well, looks like someone got up on the wrong side of the spanking bench," Mercutio remarked.  
  
Silently, Remy touched her sore scalp. Had he really done that in front of three people?  
  
"Are you all right, Remy?" Claret hovered over her shoulder, radiating anxiety.  
  
"I'm fine," Remy said quietly. "He's done it before. I never knew what was going to set him off." She didn't have to fake the tremor in her voice.  
  
"I never would have believed it if I hadn't just seen it with my own eyes!" Claret sighed and put a hand on Remy's shoulder. Remy did her best not to tense up. "I've never even seen Rory lose his cool before today, have you, Linneus?"  
  
God, Remy wished she didn't have to look at Linneus. How was she supposed to put on an act for someone that she couldn't read at all?  
  
"Not personally." Linneus took a sip of whatever he was drinking. "But I have heard of him responding to aggression from Axis with more aggression. Remy, did you know that your brother was a virgin before he joined us here?"  
  
She had never in a million years expected that question. "I… I don't understand." She fumbled for an answer. "How would I know about my brother's sex life?"  
  
"I see."  
  
"Linneus, what are you saying?" Claret demanded.  
  
"Only that Rory's actions may not be as inexplicable as his sister would have us believe."  
  
Before Remy could manage an answer, to her surprise it was Mercutio who spoke.  
  
"So, in other words, you blame Remy for making a thoughtless joke, and not her brother for reacting violently?"  
  
"Well, I guess Rory could have gotten offended since he _was_ a virgin…" Claret said uncertainly.  
  
Mercutio raised his eyebrows. "And virgins are now a minority group to be defended rather than virginity being a state of being that has no particular status attached to it in greater society? Even if that were true, it still wouldn't excuse him."  
  
Remy was in awe. She had thought for a moment that they had realized that Rory was the virgin she was talking about, but she hadn't counted on Rory's lie making that timeline impossible. Or that Mercutio, who she'd never paid any attention to, would take offense on her behalf.  
  
If Mercutio had gotten to Linneus, it didn't show. "No, it wouldn't. Never mind. Pass the polenta, Claret."  
  
"Well, as we say in the theater, all's well that ends well." Mercutio grinned as though nothing had happened.  
  
"Even Atros has been looking a little less terrifying gloom and doom!" Claret added. "Don't you think?"  
  
"Well, no, not really."  
  
"He totally has!"  
  
Remy wondered what Rory was doing now. Was he angry? Was he sad?  
  
She really was sorry.  
  
She'd only said it to get to him, not because it meant nothing to her. It never meant nothing.

It meant the _opposite_ of nothing.  
  
He was still jealous, at least. Whatever that meant.  
  
Linneus was staring out the window, and Remy hated him. He had no right to sit around looking like his soul had been scooped out. What did he know about anything, anyway? Some whore, never cracking a smile.  
  
It had been so long since she'd seen Rory smile.  
  
Remy hadn't understood it, all those years ago. How could he possibly look at her, see who she really was, all grimy and jagged and hateful, and smile? The only people (only men, really, because women always loathed her and she loathed them right back) who had ever done that had just wanted to fuck her. So, she'd thought, _okay, he wants to fuck me. Not the worst thing in the world, even if he is my twin brother._ Remy didn't particularly want to fuck _herself,_ but she couldn't deny there was a certain inexplicable charm about Rory. Not when he was pretending to be all meek and stupid, of course, but when he looked at her…  
  
Remy swallowed, and took her first bite of the salad. It was fantastic, of course, like everything Rory made. He'd told her once that he only started cooking and baking because he had to do something with his time and he didn't have the muscles to chop wood or whatever. _I was so bored,_ he'd said.  
  
She'd made herself available to him, more than once. If he'd just fucked her then, at the beginning, she could have had some kind of control over him. But he'd go and get all _embarrassed_ about it and humiliate her. And she hated him for making her feel small and powerless. What was so wrong with her, that he didn't want to look at her body?  
  
_I really like you._  
  
It hurt, thinking about how it had been. How he'd held her and laughed at her awful jokes, and given her presents and never, ever touched her. How he'd said it wasn't because he didn't want her, but because….  
  
Rory hated her.  
  
Whatever he'd thought about her then didn't matter, because she'd gone and ruined it, and ruined _him_ , and now he hated her for it.  
  
Linneus left the table first, almost without making a sound. Claret yawned and stretched and made a big fuss over how tired she was before finally going away, probably off to fuck the right people and make sure she stayed in this hellhole.  
  
"I think," Mercutio said, "that there's a story in your silence."  
  
Remy couldn't look at him. She was afraid if she did it might all come spilling out and then Rory and her both would be destroyed or worse, separated. She didn't think she could bear being apart from Rory again. "I guess," she said slowly, "I remind him of everything he regrets."  
  
"Why did you come here?"  
  
For Rory. For Rory's utter unconsciousness of his own good looks. His quiet sweetness. The way he'd lash out at her, and only her. His determination, his drive to be more than he was. His desperation for love, even though everybody already fucking loved him.  
  
"I wanted to ask him a question." _Why didn't you take me with you?_  
  
"And did you?"  
  
Remy wrapped her arms around herself. "I couldn't do it. I just… why do you even care?"  
  
She heard Mercutio exhale. "Let's say I'm interested in other people's choices."  
  
Remy frowned. "What does that even mean?"  
  
"Well, one could say I haven't had the luxury of making many of my own."  
  
She looked at him then. Sometimes, after having his room cleaned, she'd caught glimpses of Mercutio in all sorts of weird getups, from corsets to hair curlers, stuff it was impossible to take him seriously in. But now he was just sort of… ordinary. His hair was more grey than blue, his clothes practically understated by Teahouse standards. His eyes went from spaced out to focused in a second. "Like what you see, darling?"  
  
Remy ignored him. "Why did you come here?"  
  
Mercutio shrugged, a surprisingly elegant gesture. "I was sold to Atros by my former owner. A reward for bad behavior. Turns out I was tying up the wrong man's very willing daughter."  
  
Remy blinked. "His _daughter?_ I didn't think you actually..."  
  
"And now I see the family resemblance," Mercutio said dryly. "Yes, but I don't discriminate. Did you think I didn't mean my offer?"  
  
"I thought you were trying to piss off Rory."  
  
"Well, I can do both." Mercutio smiled. "Was that what you were trying to do?"  
  
Remy's stomach dropped. "I… I just wanted to see what... how he would react. He's always been weird about sex stuff. I mean, I still don't know why he came _here_ instead of just working in a bakery or something, like he wanted. This is the sort of place _I_ was going to end up in, not him."  
  
God, she hoped she hadn't given herself away in her rambling. She was so spooked she hardly knew what narrative she was trying to paint here.  
  
"Siblings," Mercutio said, thoughtfully, getting off his stool. "Rivalries and petty jealousies. It must be strange, being a twin."  
  
Remy shrugged, uncomfortable. "I've never not been one, so I wouldn't know." _Unless you count all those years growing up by myself, but you don't have to know that._  
  
"Well, I've never had a sibling, so I wouldn't know either." Mercutio pulled out what looked like a cabinet on wheels that Remy hadn't noticed was there. "Mind if I polish my lovely collection?"  
  
"Um, no." Collection of what, exactly?  
  
"Good, because I'd do it anyway." Mercutio crouched down and at ludicrous speed began pulling drawers out and swinging out compartment and setting all sorts of colorful objects out on the picnic blanket he'd pulled from… somewhere.  
  
Remy decided to change the subject. "How long have you been a slave?"  
  
"Since I was an infant." His tone was remarkably matter-of-fact. He was even humming as he worked, even if Remy wasn't sure what these objects had in common. A lot of them looked like cocks, but that was probably just her dirty mind. "Don't get quiet and embarrassed now, I really don't mind."  
  
"I'm not embarrassed!" Remy said defiantly. "I just don't understand how you could get in trouble for fucking someone if you've always been someone's property."  
  
Mercutio grinned. "I may be a slave, but I don't always wait for orders. Besides, sexual slavery used to be illegal, even if that was before you can remember."  
  
"I'm not a _child_. And it being illegal doesn't mean it didn't happen." Remy crossed her arms.  
  
"Fair point. But I have always taken great pride in what I do, and I can't imagine myself being proud of being violated in a dark room as a child. No, my sex life was my own business, until it became someone else's."  
  
Was he mocking her? Remy had to remind herself that there was no way he could tell what she'd been just by looking at her. That was a child's panic, the idea that you could somehow have slut written all over your face. "How nice for you. What kind of slave were you, then?"  
  
"Didn't I tell you?" Mercutio raised his arms in a dramatic flourish, only slightly spoiled by the ridged tube in his hand. "I had the honor of belonging to Ivore's finest theater company. Man of a thousand faces and all that. A better adolescence I could not have asked for, with all the world at my fingertips, and plenty of creatively frustrated fellow artists. But popularity has its drawbacks, and how fickle is fame. The personal becomes public and the public become personal. And then before you know it, you're a curiosity, then a liability, and then there's really only one thing you're good for, and it's not the sort of thing spoken of in polite company. Quoth the deed of sale: _fucking whatever_. Well, one thing is better than no thing, so you might as well be the best of the worst. And take pride in your work once more."  
  
Remy looked at the "collection" all laid out. "Those are sex toys, aren't they?"  
  
"Give the girl an anal plug! Congratulatory spankings all around! Do you plan to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?"  
  
Remy ignored him. "Do you even like any of it?"  
  
Mercutio laughed, apparently sincerely. "Like it? Oh no, I _love_ it. Always have. It's all that's left of Mercutio. My worst nightmare is that I'll wake up one day and lose the desire to do anything but lie back in the missionary position and pine. Death by autoerotic asphyxiation would be less embarrassing. But enough about me! Haven't you had some aspirations in life?"  
  
"Of course I have. I want to be my own person, to have control of my own life." _And to make Rory mine._  
  
"Then selling yourself into sexual slavery seems an odd career move."  
  
Remy scowled. "I'm not planning on _staying_ this way. Once I've got what I want I'm ripping up the deed and not looking back."  
  
Mercutio shrugged. "None of my business really. Though I will say, most people don't carry around a picture of someone they hate."  
  
Remy stared at him. "What?"  
  
"That's how Claret, Linneus and I first saw you. Your picture fell out of a book your brother had. He looked so panicked when Claret picked it up, we all thought you must be his dirty little secret."  
  
She felt cold. "I don't know what you mean."  
  
"Oh, I don't mean anything. An honest fool says what he thinks without any particular regard to what it means. A wise man considers the consequences." Mercutio grinned again. "But who among us here's honest or wise?"  
  
"You're giving me a headache," Remy said sourly. "I'm going to bed."  
  
"I always do make people sore!"  
  
No wonder her brother had lost his temper. What an annoying person.  
  
It figured that the most annoying person in this place was the only one that actually listened to Remy talk.  
  
She felt tired, so tired, even though she'd been asleep not two hours ago. It wasn't the kind of exhaustion sleep could help with.  
  
_His dirty little secret. Who's dirty little secret_ haven't _I been? No wonder Rory hates me. I don't know how anyone could see anything nice in me at all. I haven't been good since I was a little girl, and I didn't even enjoy it when I had the chance._  
  
_Not that I would have understood what was going to happen even if somebody'd told me..._  
  
Remy wasn't going to think about it, not now. Not ever again. There was no point, it never got better and it never did anything but make her want to die.  
  
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, she was not going to think about it, no!  
  
_What right does Mercuti-ho have to judge me, anyway? He gets paid to be pissed on and whipped, and he thinks I'm weird? He's got a whole closet full of costumes to fuck in, and he thinks… and he probably had some of those from before, when it was actually his choice who he fucked._  
  
For that, Remy envied him bitterly. He'd started when he felt like it and probably only went with people he actually found attractive instead of whoever had the deepest pockets or the strongest tolerance. Or just whoever happened to be the biggest bully that night.  
  
She hadn't really realized for a while that she _could_ find anybody attractive, or could make anything happen on her own. And then when she'd started trying to pick and choose, well.  
  
The best cure for jealousy was for everyone to share.  
  
Rory would never do that.  
  
_So why am I making him watch?_  
  
Remy stood outside the room that was now hers, painted in dark colors like below decks on her father's ships.  
  
_Because he's never going to understand what it was like if I don't show him._  
  
_Because he thinks he knows what it's like to be helpless, and he doesn't._  
  
_Because he thought he loved me._  
  
_This is what it is to love me._  
  
For the first time in what seemed an eternity, Remy woke up in the morning by herself.  
  
Although, judging by the clock, it was very nearly no longer morning. Breakfast had probably come and gone.  
  
After getting back into her rumpled clothes, Remy wandered out into the hall. No sign of anyone else. Might as well go down the big old staircase and look for food.  
  
But when she got to the landing, she saw Linneus by the piano, dressed to the nines, not quite making eye contact with a perky brunette who was talking up a storm and gesturing enthusiastically with a frilly pink parasol that matched her outfit.  
  
"…and it's been such a long time since we talked! I want to know what you're doing, what's new with you! I mean, I'm sure you're tired of just hearing about my pregnancy. Xanthe doesn't even _pretend_ to listen. And you always made the best tea, so…"  
  
"I'd like nothing better, Yvette," Linneus was saying, as Remy quietly made her way downstairs, "but you see I'm expecting a client now, and I really don't have the time. Please forgive me."  
  
"Boo! Of course I forgive you. How many friends have I got, anyway? I'll just ask Xanthe to make more room in your schedule so we can have a picnic like we used to. He hates picnics… but I guess you know that too." Yvette heaved a sigh.  
  
"Have a nice day." Linneus drifted away, but his loss was Remy's gain.  
  
"Hello." Yvette jumped, and Remy smiled. "Are you waiting for someone?"  
  
"Sort of?" Yvette pouted. "I'm Yvette Atros. I thought this might be a good time to see… to see my husband. But I don't even see Argent. Do you work here now?"  
  
"You could say that. I'm Remy Dubois, new courtesan."  
  
"Oh!" Yvette beamed. "Do you know where Xanthe's hiding, then?"  
  
Remy shook her head. "I don't see him much. Probably in his office?"  
  
"Oh. Well, I already checked there."  
  
Remy tried not to fidget. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"  
  
"Well…" Yvette hesitated. "Are you seeing any clients in the next couple of hours?"  
  
Well, Remy hadn't expected things to escalate this quickly, but she was nothing if not adaptable. "No, my schedule's all free… for now." She tilted her head and smiled winsomely.  
  
"Great!" Yvette clapped her hands. "Then you're coming out with me to the garden for tea!"  
  
Remy blinked. "Tea?"  
  
"We'll have ourselves a tea party!" Yvette grabbed Remy's hand and dragged her along. "And maybe when we're done, Xanthe will be free!"  
  
This was not what Remy had expected from a pimp's wife.  
  
But she clearly was who she said she was, judging from how Tinsette (Tinsel?) jumped to do her bidding and set up tea in the courtyard. Remy tried not to think about how the only person she'd really done the whole tea thing with was Rory.  
  
"So!" Yvette beamed. "How long have you worked for Xanthe?"  
  
Remy shrugged.  
  
"What's your favorite color?" Yvette persisted.  
  
"I don't know. Why would I have a favorite?" This girl seemed pretty stupid.  
  
"Well, now you're just being obstinate. And boring besides." Yvette put her elbows on the table and leaned on her hands, squinting at Remy like she was trying to read a map. "You don't _have_ to have a favorite, it's just something that happens. Because it reminds you of something or just because it looks nice on you. There must be something you like."  
  
"Green."  
  
Yvette frowned. "You're not just saying that to make me stop, are you?"  
  
Remy shook her head. "No, I really do like green. I had to think about it."  
  
Green like Rory's eyes when they lay next to each other and talked for hours.  
  
Remy's eyes were green too, of course, but she didn't much like to look in mirrors.  
  
Yvette sighed dramatically. "Well, it's something, I suppose. You're not very talkative. You don't happen to be… friends with Lilith, do you?"  
  
At last, a question Remy knew the right answer to. "Lilith hates me. She tried to get Atros to throw me out." _Because she was jealous? Because she thought I stole her client? Because I did steal her client?_ Remy couldn't figure out which Yvette would respond to the best, but fortunately Yvette didn't seem to notice.  
  
"That horrible woman!" Yvette exclaimed. "At least he doesn't listen to _her._ I'm sure she's been saying nasty things about me for years."  
  
"He's your husband," Remy pointed out. "Why do you have to put up with her?"  
  
_Try to look interested. Pretend like you care about this nitwit's pathetic life._  
  
"Well, she's part of Xanthe's business. And I can't really stop him from doing what he wants when I'm not around. I tried telling him to sell her to somebody else, but…"  
  
Remy heard something rustling behind her, and spun around.  
  
It was Rory, caught mid escape. Did he actually think clown was a style that was going to catch on or was he punishing her eyes now too?  
  
"Do you want something?" Remy was aware that her tone could use more innocent sweetness, but she didn't like him hovering around when she hadn't arranged it.  
  
Rory's expression went cold. "If I did, would it make any difference to you?"  
  
Remy opened her mouth to tell him where he could stick his fucking sanctimonious bullshit, but Yvette spoke before she could. "You two look so alike! Are you related?"  
  
"We're twins," Rory said icily.  
  
In that moment, Remy profoundly wished his disdain didn't make her so hot.  
  
"How interesting!" Yvette exclaimed. "I don't have any siblings. I wanted a little sister, though. I used to play dress up with Linneus since he was younger. He liked my clothes, too. Did you two ever wear each other's clothes?"  
  
"No, Remy preferred to wear older men's clothes. Isn't that right, Remy?" Rory smirked.  
  
"And Rory's never looked like much of a man at all," Remy retorted. "But I guess he always did want to suck their-"  
  
_"Liar!"_ Rory shouted. "You're such a _liar!"_ And with that, he turned and ran away.  
  
"Takes one to know one!" Remy shouted at his retreating back.  
  
"I guess maybe I was lucky not to have a sibling," observed Yvette. "Did Xanthe buy you two together or separately?"  
  
"Rory ran away from home and ended up here somehow. I joined him." Remy crossed her arms. "Not that he's grateful or anything."  
  
Yvette blinked. "Aren't your parents worried?"  
  
Remy shrugged. "Our father's a morbid drunk and our mother's a narcissist, and they haven't seen each other in sixteen years. We're adults, we take care of ourselves."  
  
"That's awful!" Yvette gasped. "And sad. Xanthe never really got along with his parents either, and I think it's had a terrible effect on him socially. It's like he doesn't even know how to express love." Her hand strayed to her belly. "I worry about him. Sometimes I worry so much I can't sleep."  
  
Remy glanced at Yvette's pregnant stomach. "That can't be good for either of you."  
  
"It's not good for a child to grow up without a strong father figure," Yvette said sadly.  
  
"You can't just fix him with good intentions. Some people are broken, and that's it." Remy hadn't meant to speak her mind that bluntly, but, well, it was true.  
  
"I don't believe that!" Yvette stood up. "Some people need more time than others to heal. And this baby is an opportunity, just as meeting you was an opportunity. Remy Dubois, we are going to be friends, and I'm going to change your outlook!"  
  
Well. Not exactly how Remy had intended to go about it, but this was a lucky break. _Though if she thinks she's going to make me a ball of sunshine and puppies, she's a good seven fucking years too late._  
  
Yvette beamed. "I'll make sure to ask after you next time! I'm going up to see if Xanthe's in his office now, but this isn't going to be our last tea party." She blew Remy a kiss and floated away in a pink and yellow cloud of cheeriness.  
  
It was hot as balls out in the garden, so Remy went back into the main hall.  
  
If there was any kind of organization to the way the other whores spent their time between appointments, Remy had yet to figure it out. There was no sign of anybody, even in the kitchen. She figured her brother must be sulking in his room.  
  
The doorbell rang. Remy glanced around to see if it looked like anybody was getting it.  
  
_Should have paid more attention to that appointment schedule of whatsername's, I guess. Telesa? Tara? Teresa? Terrie? Terrier. Sure, let's go with that._  
  
It was the third ring, and still no sign of another human being. Remy shrugged and went to the door, since it was starting to get annoying.  
  
Standing outside was some blond guy in uniform she'd never seen before. Remy tried to gauge whether he could possibly be someone's regular or was fresh meat hoping to get a first look around. "Hello?"  
  
"I'm here on the king's business," the man informed her testily. "May I come in, Miss…?"  
  
"Remy." Ah, just a flunky. Not worth tenderizing. Still, she got out of the way and let him through the doorway.  
  
Blond Curls looked around, seemingly less than impressed. "I'm sure you have some kind of client confidentiality agreement, but I would appreciate it if you could at least tell me if I've come to the right place."  
  
"This is the Teahouse." Struck by a sudden thought, Remy added, "How's Axis?"  
  
This was apparently the worst possible question, judging by how dark Blond Curls's expression got. "I am Zephyr Langston, Captain of His Majesty's Guard. I don't even know where that man is, if he's not here."  
  
Remy blinked. "…Okay?"  
  
"I'm looking for Lord Reed. Do you know who that is?"  
  
"Yes," Remy snapped. "He's not here either. He came yesterday and left yesterday."  
  
To her surprise, Zephyr groaned. "I can't tell the king _that!_ Haven't you at least got an idea of when he's coming back?"  
  
Remy shrugged. "He might never be coming back. But if you really want to know, you should ask Eye- Atros. The owner. You'll have to wait to see him, though, his wife's visiting."  
  
"I've met him. I hoped it would be the last time." Zephyr grimaced. "How long of a wait? Should I leave and come back at a better time?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure you can find ways to amuse yourself in a brothel," Remy said innocently.  
  
Zephyr eyed her with naked disgust. "I'm here on royal business. I'm not interested in anything that doesn't directly serve His Majesty's interests. Besides, what makes you think I'd need to pay for that sort of thing?"  
  
"What makes _you_ think you can afford our prices, cupcake?"  
  
Mercutio knew how to make an entrance, that was for sure. He wasn't even wearing a shirt, just tight pants and some short silvery half-robe that didn't seem to close. Remy expected him to break out in a grin any moment now, but no, he looked genuinely contemptuous. Eyebrows levels of contempt, even.  
  
Zephyr scowled up at Mercutio, who seemed disinclined to move from the top of the stairs. "Money is not my issue. There's just nothing here more appealing that keeping my position."  
  
"Oh, well then." Mercutio turned his back on them, and Remy admired the way the robe swirled around in what had to be a deliberate motion. "I don't see anything particularly appealing myself. You'd have to offer me more than money to play with a prissy little sponge like you. Good afternoon." He began to walk away, possibly a little slower than usual.  
  
_"Wait!"_ Zephyr shouted. His face was actually flushed. "Name your price!"  
  
Mercutio glanced back over his shoulder. "Didn't I say I wasn't interested?"  
  
"I'll pay it." Zephyr's fists were clenched and shaking, Remy noticed. "Don't make me beg. Please."  
  
"Not yet, at least." Mercutio leaned against the banister. "Very well. I'll consider adding you to the wait list if you're good. Come upstairs and we'll make arrangements."  
  
Zephyr very nearly earned his name so quickly did he fly up the stairs and in the direction Mercutio indicated. Then Mercutio grinned, and winked at Remy before following him out of sight.  
  
Well, Remy wasn't about to try topping _that._  
  
She wandered back to the kitchen, but there was still no one there. Annoyed, Remy headed back up to her room.  
  
When she opened the door, Rory was sitting on her bed.  
  
"Fucking shit!" Remy yelped. "You startled me, dickhead." That was the only reason her heart was pounding, absolutely. She shut the door behind her with some effort, since apparently whoever fixed Axis' door hadn't cared that much about making it functional.  
  
"At least I didn't wait until you were asleep and crawl in your bed," Rory returned.  
  
Point to dickhead brother. "Trying to broaden your skill set?"  
  
_"Hilarious._ Have you been spending time with Mercutio?"  
  
"So what if I am?" Remy snapped.  
  
Rory glared at her. "You're going out of your way to find the people that annoy me the most to torment me, aren't you?"  
  
_"Torment?"_ She couldn't help it, she had to laugh. "Yes, that is exactly what I'm doing, I'm _tormenting_ you. I dare you to say that to somebody. _This_ is your idea of torment? What a charmed life you've led, Rory Dubois."  
  
Rory's eyes narrowed, his body visibly rigid.  
  
And then, to Remy's shock, he ripped off the bow around his neck and began to unbutton his shirt.  
  
"W-what are you doing?" God, his fingers were quick. "This isn't your room, you know. You can't use the shower."  
  
Rory slid off the shirt. "I like this room."  
  
"Yeah, well, the deck's always shiner on someone else's boat. I'd give you the measurements, but I've just moved in." Oh... oh fuck, he was unfastening his pants. "What, are you trying to prove something? I believe you're a man, happy?"  
  
Rory smiled. Not his happy-go-lucky smile, but a smug nasty little _smirk_ that hit Remy deep in the cunt.  
  
"Do you?" Rory rolled his (bare) shoulders and stretched, displaying his (bare) torso with an easy confidence she hadn't known he was capable of.  
  
Remy's breath was coming quickly, but she wasn't panting. It was sad. It was sick. She could turn her back on him any time she wanted to. She _would_ turn her back on him, absolutely, any minute now. She'd keep her eyes above the waist no matter what, she wouldn't get tricked into looking.  
  
She couldn't look, she'd lose her line of thought completely.  
  
What _was_ her line of thought, anyway?  
  
Rory's face. God, Rory's _cock._  
  
Rory crooked his finger at her. Without thinking, she went to him.  
  
"Are you quiet like this for Mercutio?"  
  
"I'm not fucking him, so you can shove it," Remy muttered.  
  
Rory grabbed her wrist and before she could protest or pull back, she was dragged down to her knees on the thinly carpeted floor. "I don't believe you," Rory hissed, grip tightening on her wrist.  
  
_Fuck_ she was wet. "I promise!" It came out more of a gasp than a statement, though Remy was just glad she didn't outright moan, especially when his other hand twisted in her hair again, a possessive tug that gave her goosebumps. And if he thought she wasn't seeing how his well-proportioned cock was reacting to this, he was crazy.  
  
"Tell me I wasn't just a virgin to you," Rory said softly.  
  
Remy swallowed. "You weren't."  
  
He was so close, so warm, so nearly naked. It was so easy to forget that a rich pervert had laid hands on him, so easy to pretend he was her own Rory again.  
  
She put her free hand on Rory's thigh. Whatever he wanted, she wanted.  
  
Rory smiled, faintly. "Do you want me?"  
  
Remy let her head fall, eyes firmly on his cock but to her surprise he yanked her head up again, hard. _"Ow!_ That fucking hurts!"  
  
"You didn't answer my question," Rory snarled, his grip on her hair so painfully tight she could feel his knuckles against the back of her skull. It felt… it felt _good_. "Tell me, now!"  
  
"I want you," Remy moaned, all pride gone. "Oh, Rory, please…"  
  
He kissed her, and she kissed him back hungrily, near swaying with the need for him. It wasn't until he pulled back that she remembered where she was, and how they'd gotten there, and what she'd done, and what _he'd_ done.  
  
"Tell me you don't hate me," Remy whispered.  
  
Rory shoved her, so hard that in her shock Remy fell flat on her back on the floor. Dazed, she lifted the wrist he'd been holding so tight and wondered what she'd done wrong.  
  
"That's what you do to me!" Rory snatched up his shirt and stomped right past Remy.  
  
Remy stared at the ceiling as he slammed the door shut.  
  
He'd _humiliated_ her. Humiliated her to prove some kind of point about how she was hurting him, as if she didn't know. _He_ was the one that didn't know anything, the one that made her vulnerable and _abandoned_ her, and now he'd done it again. Fucking _again._  
  
She wasn't going to let him have the last word, not this time.  
  
"Knock knock, princess."  
  
Remy shot up. Who the hell _said_ knock instead of knocking?  
  
Axefist of course, standing in her doorway with characteristic overblown swagger. "Missed me?"  
  
"I heard you got kicked out of the palace."  
  
Axis scowled. "He didn't kick me out, I left! I'm too good for that bastard, anyway."  
  
Remy shrugged. "I just don't want to get accused of treason or anything."  
  
He stomped in and closed the door. "You wanna know the truth, princess? I don't think he'd have even noticed I was gone if I had walked out on my own."  
  
"Of course he would, he sent you a fancy invitation to live there and everything." Remy got to her feet and brushed off her clothes. "Don't tell me you want your room back."  
  
"Nah, you can have it. I just came to pick up some stuff." The way his eyes lingered on her suggested he'd come to pick up more than that. "You really stole Lilith's client, huh? Uppity bitch had it coming if you ask me."  
  
"You don't really want to talk about that, do you?" Remy smiled.  
  
It was nice to be wanted, even if she was pretty sure Axis would fuck inanimate objects under the right circumstances. And Rory had left her worked up to the point of frustration.  
  
A couple fake orgasms later (and they shouldn't have _had_ to be fake, but Axis wasn't Rory and there was only so much of his idea of dirty talk that she could take, so...) Remy rolled over and snatched Axis' shirt off the floor since she was more than ready for a change of clothing.  
  
"You know he got married, right?"  
  
Either Remy had missed something or Axis had chosen a very annoying time to lose his mind. "Who?"  
  
"Rhys." Seeing this didn't help, Axis added impatiently, "The king."  
  
"Oh. No, I didn't."  
  
"The funny part is, I fuckin' know the bitch. She's so up her own ass, she probably thinks I knew she was marrying him and decided to ruin it. Because hanging out with people that hate my guts is so much goddamn _fun!_ _"_ Axis covered his face. "Ugh, _politics._ I'm fucking done with that shit."  
  
"What did you think was going to happen when you moved to the palace?"  
  
"I don't know!" Axis threw his pillow at the wall. "I thought I'd be worth _something._ I thought he gave a shit. And then I figured out who he _really_ wanted to be boning, of all fucking people, so fuck that guy. I hope he chokes on his own dick."  
  
Remy didn't know what to say.  
  
Before she could think of a response, Axis rolled over and lifted up what Remy recognized with a sickening jolt as Rory's bow. "Guess you've been picking up where I left off, huh, princess? Take it from me, these asshole aristocrats ain't worth your time. Though it's not like they take no for an answer."  
  
"Aristocrats aren't the only ones," Remy said grimly.  
  
"Princess? Hey, look at me." Reluctantly she did. To her surprise, Axis looked serious. "Anyone messes with you, let this tiger know, huh? Just because we're slaves doesn't mean we're not people, right?"  
  
There it was, the perfect opening. Remy almost felt like she shouldn't take it, though she couldn't really think of a reason not to. And she'd never have another chance half as good. She took a deep breath. "That ribbon, it's… things have been hard since you left. You know my brother's the highest paid courtesan now."  
  
Axis laughed. "Yeah, because that creepy bastard showed up at the right time. You know this is the _second_ time he's paid for exclusive virgin ass? Guy has a type."  
  
"I don't think it's been good for Rory." Remy swallowed, mostly for effect, because at this point the words were burning in her throat. "He's been so angry."  
  
Axis' eyes narrowed.  
  
Remy bit her lip. "Rory's tormenting me."  
  
"I never liked that little shit," Axis growled. "Where's my fucking pants? I'm gonna teach that twink a lesson he won't soon forget."  
  
"Wait, right now?" Remy wasn't dressed for this. "You really don't have to-"  
  
"I've been looking for a good reason to knock somebody around, it might as well be Lord Fagbreath's buttboy."  
  
It took all Remy's self-control to keep from snapping _You didn't seem to have a problem with being the king's buttboy, smartass,_ but there was no way she wanted that rage directed at her. She seized one of her petticoats off the floor and shimmied into it as Axis zipped his fly and stormed out the door.  
  
Should she tell someone? Should she go after him? Would it look bad if she went after him?  
  
Yeah, right, there was no way she wasn't going to watch this.  
  
At a careful distance, Remy followed Axis to Rory's room. Axis yanked open the door, but it was unoccupied.  
  
Downstairs they went, Axis stomping right past Argent who didn't seem particularly perturbed.  
  
"Argent?" Remy said, affecting timidity. "I think I said the wrong thing to Axis. You'll make sure he doesn't hurt anyone, right?"  
  
"I'm not sure I can. We don't technically own his contract anymore."  
  
Remy stared at her. "Well, sure, but aren't you supposed to protect the people you do own?"  
  
"I'll inform Atros."  
  
"You're going the wrong way!" Remy shouted after her. _Well. Good thing I wasn't counting on her._  
  
Remy ran to the kitchen, getting within earshot just in time to hear Rory say, "If you want it, you're going to have to pay like everyone else."  
  
"In your dreams, twerp! Just because one rich freak likes to ram it up your underage cum hole doesn't make you special. You're probably not even _good_ at it. I bet you cried when he used your ass like a pussy."  
  
Remy saw Rory leaning back against the counter, his face grim but deceptively even. If it weren't for his clenched fists, she wouldn't have even known for sure that he was angry.  
  
"We all know you cried," Rory said coldly. "I heard you screaming from the hallway. You sounded like a woman being raped. But then when he came back, you were just so hurt that he didn't want to fuck you aga-"  
  
Axis slugged Rory in the jaw.  
  
Remy gasped. "Axis, that's e-"  
  
"So you remember his name." There was blood trickling out of the corner of Rory's mouth when he spoke, but his eyes were fixed on Remy.  
  
Axis laughed. "Of course she remembers my name, I've been nailing her so hard she-"  
  
Remy'd never seen anyone _launch_ themselves at someone with such single minded intensity. Rory actually knocked Axis off his feet, and while Axis was still visibly shocked (and probably winded) Rory grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the kitchen floor.  
  
_"Rory!"_ Remy screamed, terrified.  
  
Rory turned to her, breathing heavily, which turned out to be the distraction Axis needed to roll over and dislodge him. Both men scrambled to their knees and Axis swung a punch that nearly missed Rory's head altogether.  
  
"You little _shit!_ "  
  
Remy couldn't move. Her brother was evading most of Axis' wide obvious swings, but the ones that hit clearly hit hard. And after what Rory'd done, there was no way Axis would let him off easy. _Where the fuck is Argent?_  
  
_"Axis!"_  
  
Much to everyone's surprise, it was Lilith. The men actually stopped fighting for a moment to gape at her sneering down at them.  
  
"Whatever point you were trying to make in your Neanderthal way, I think he gets." Lilith crossed her arms. "Leave Rory alone before his sugar daddy fines us."  
  
"Are you taking his fucking _side?"_ Axis yelled. "You don't know a fucking thing about it!" He seized Rory, who was caught off guard, and twisted him into a headlock. "Say your prayers, pillowbiter!"  
  
"Axis, he can't breathe!" Lilith seized the arm that was on Rory's throat and pulled. "That's enough!"  
  
"Lilith, you look too much like a man for me to feel bad about hitting, so back the fuck off!"  
  
Lilith yanked Axis by the hair, jerking his head back while he screeched.  
  
_He does sound like a woman,_ Remy thought, dimly. Rory was gasping and gulping in deep breaths of air.  
  
"I've always wanted to rip your tacky piercings out," Lilith snarled. "Do you really want to give me a reason?"  
  
"Lilith, get off him, Axis, _let Rory go."_ Argent, finally, her sword drawn. "It's over."  
  
Axis scowled but stayed where he was. Lilith took her hands off him quickly and wrung them out as though they were covered with mud before crossing her arms.  
  
Remy ran to Rory, who was coughing now. Gingerly she put her hand on his shoulder, fully expecting him to pull away. Possibly because he was distracted, he didn't, so Remy slid her hand down his back and began to rub circles between his shoulder blades.  
  
"Lilith." It was Eyebrows, who'd come in after Argent when Remy wasn't looking. "See me in my office. Axis, my apologies."  
  
Atros strode off without a word to Rory or Remy.  
  
"You've _got_ to be joking," Lilith spat. _"I'm_ the one who deserves a reprimand?!"  
  
Axis smirked. "Too bad you're not screwing royalty, huh?"  
  
"And here I thought royalty was screwing you," Lilith returned.  
  
Axis threw a punch at Lilith but Argent dragged her out of the way just in time.  
  
"We're going." With that, Argent yanked Lilith out of the kitchen.  
  
Axis glanced at Rory, who was resting in Remy's arms. "Well, I tried, princess. Let me know if you ever wanna ditch these zeroes."  
  
"I will," Remy said, with sugar-laced insincerity.  
  
"Have fun being homeless," Rory rasped.  
  
Axis flipped Rory off with one hand and gave Remy a thumbs up with the other, before strutting out.  
  
"Does he know?" Rory asked tonelessly.  
  
"He doesn't know his elbow from his ass," Remy muttered.  
  
Rory pulled away from Rory and got to his feet. _Yeah, you took your sweet time._ "At least we agree on something. Now get out. I have to finish dinner."  
  
Normally, Remy would hang around just to annoy him, but she had other things on her mind now the danger had passed. "See you later, little brother."  
  
Rory glowered at her, which she took as goodbye.  
  
It seemed like an eternity but Remy finally made it to her room and closed the door behind her.  
  
The way Rory had taken that blow, the way he'd lunged at Axis… Remy was panting just thinking about it. Fuck, she wanted him so _badly._ She knew Rory would make it good, so good for both of them.  
  
Remy whimpered as she touched herself, desperate at the thought of Rory pouncing on her like that. He'd bite her, and strike her, and mark her with his hands and teeth and _jizz_ until she wailed for him to fuck her, fuck her the way they both knew she needed to be fucked.  
  
_"Rory!"_ Remy moaned, rubbing her clit as hard as she could. There was nothing she wouldn't eagerly do with him. He could have her any way he wanted and she'd still be eager for more. She knew he was big- she'd seen it. He'd feel so good inside her. She'd suck him off first-  
  
It never took long for Remy to climax when she thought of her brother.  
  
_There's never been anyone else for me. Just you, Rory. You can't run forever. None of them know you like I know you. You think they can make you happy, but they can't. You'll see._  
  
_And I'll be right here when you realize it._  
  
_Like always._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Hem of Your Garment" by Cake.


	4. The Foolish Virgin, The Infernal Bridegroom

Rory almost didn’t recognize his own reflection in the mirror.

Linneus had given Rory make-up to help minimize the visible bruising from Axis' attack, but as far as Rory was concerned, the only reason to use it would be to make it look even more dramatic. He’d earned these bruises. Besides, they might give him a bit of a rough edge, or at least tap into people's protective instincts, which Rory could really use these days.

He'd received a note from Reed. Strikingly, it had begun with the words _I understand what it is that I did wrong._ If that was true, it was a first.

It also informed Rory that their contract was still intact and therefore he should _refrain from sullying that body of yours_. If Reed was going to walk in with his usual attitude, Rory intended to deploy every resource he had to make him sorry for it.

Reed had also sent what looked like a new sex object. Apparently the time of flowers had come and gone. Or maybe he thought Rory was so constantly horny that he had to send him toys or else he'd go hop on the nearest dick.

The idea that Reed might think of Rory as insatiable was actually kind of his favorite possibility. Not that Rory had any intention of bringing it up, but… he sort of hoped Reed did imagine there was some line of hot men pressed against the Teahouse windows salivating at the possibility Reed might break the contract.

Oh, who was he kidding? Reed was just lazy. He hadn't even bothered to seek out his own brothel. Rory knew he'd heard about "the virgin" from one of the Teahouse's other clients.

Rory’s face was starting to develop a really nice black eye. Whether that had actually been Remy's intention or just a useful accident was anybody's guess. Frankly, sometimes he wondered if Remy even had an escape plan. She wasn't exactly tethered to reality on a constant basis.

Fortunately, no one else in the Teahouse seemed particularly grounded either. Claret was busy living vicariously through a fantasy version of everyone else's relationship, Lilith thought she was too good to bother talking to anyone but Atros most of the time, Mercutio was on Planet Mercutio, and Linneus was…

Rory had suspected something was up when Atros decided to punish Lilith instead of kicking Axis out or reprimanding Rory. Not that Atros had ever acted particularly affectionate towards Lilith, but he'd never singled her out for a dressing down before.

And then last night Rory saw Linneus slipping out of Atros' room.

No wonder Linneus barely made eye contact with anyone these days.

Rory considered asking Claret about it but as well meaning as she was, he doubted he was going to get any interpretation out of her that wasn’t heavily influenced by her own wishful thinking. Lilith probably knew the whole sordid history, but Rory wasn't about to take her defense of him yesterday as a sign that they were now friends.

And asking Linneus himself seemed almost confrontational, since it wasn’t like it was really Rory’s business.

Which left… Mercutio.

The idea made his skin crawl, but Mercutio had been around for a while and didn't seem to have any particular allegiances. And if Rory was talking to him, he at least could be moderately sure that Remy wasn't being taken advantage of by the creep. At that moment, anyway.

It took Rory a little while to figure out where Mercutio's room was, since he'd never needed to know. Fortunately, the first door that he tentatively knocked on was flung open to reveal an overjoyed Mercutio.

"Puppy! To what do I owe the pleasure? Lord Reed looking to add a bit of spice to his usual dish?"

Rory rolled his eyes. "No. Can we talk? Like a normal, non freaky conversation?"

He half expected Mercutio to say he'd come to the wrong place, but instead Mercutio laughed. "How very eccentric of you. Come in."

Mercutio's room was terrifying, but Rory had expected that. Cheerfully terrifying was maybe more accurate. All the windows were open and sunlight was streaming in, and it all looked extremely clean, to be fair. No crusted blood or dirty diapers or anything.

"Before you comment on my general creepiness," Mercutio said, interrupting Rory's thoughts with somewhat alarming accuracy, "What did you want to talk about?"

"Uh," Rory said, embarrassed. "Do you think it's… well, is it possible that Linneus is… sleeping with Atros?" His words sounded incredibly juvenile even to him.

The smile vanished from Mercutio's face, and he sat down on the nearest… bench? "Oh, anything's possible. Unhappily so."

Rory moved gingerly to Mercutio's bed, since he had no idea what kind of fluids had been on the other stuff. "I don't mean to be nosy but what's the story there? I've seen Linneus carrying him trays and stuff that it seems like somebody else should be able to do. And Linneus said he's been here since he was in his early teens."

Mercutio shook his head. "Longer than that. I've seen portraits of a younger Atros standing beside a child with pink hair."

Rory stared at him. "Linneus _grew up_ here? Was he related to the original owner? Are he and Atros _siblings?!"_

"Oh no, Linneus was a slave even then." Mercutio leaned back on his hands. "You can tell by how differently the two of them are dressed in the pictures. Atros the prince and Linneus the pauper. Linneus waits on Atros because he's been doing it all his life."

"So then, when Linneus got old enough, he just switched from being a house slave to a sex slave," Rory realized. "But then why would their relationship change now? What's different now?"

"I don't think it has changed."

Rory blinked. "What do you mean?"

Mercutio let out a long sigh that Rory suspected meant he was exasperated. "I think this isn't the first time our Linneus has had to keep his master's secrets. But that would have been a long time ago, before I was here. I can tell you that I have seen Atros start to play with Linneus more than once, and Linneus has always resisted. It's my suspicion that when Atros became engaged to Yvette, his relationship with Linneus crumbled."

"But Yvette's pregnant now," Rory said, puzzled "Wouldn't that make it even worse?"

Mercutio held up a hand. "But now you're thinking like Rory, not Atros. Atros has been unfaithful to his wife as long as I’ve known him, and never a trace of guilt. I doubt he's even registered that he's going to be a father."

"I'd think it would bother Linneus at least a little," Rory retorted.

"And so it does. Or did you not find it odd that Yvette had tea with your sister instead of Linneus, the stated reason for her visits? He’s been avoiding her.”

Rory shrugged. "I never saw her before that. Does she usually see Linneus? Wouldn't that be awkward?"

"It would be if Yvette had the slightest idea that Linneus played Patroclus to her husband's Achilles, but she clearly doesn't. In a way it was clever of Atros to take up with Lilith. Any distance Yvette feels she attributes to Lilith."

"No wonder Lilith's always in a bad mood." Rory thought back to the conversations he'd had with Linneus. What had he said about his past? That he'd been awkward and modeled himself on the other women… oh god, the other women would have been prostitutes. And he said some weird stuff about his perfume being mistaken for his natural scent and… "Sometimes men have trouble admitting they have feelings for other men…"

"That depends on the man and the nature of the feelings, puppy."

Rory threw up his hands. "I wasn't talking about… that's what _Linneus_ said! Do you think he was talking about Atros?"

Mercutio paused, and a grim look came over his face. "Whether he was or not, that's what's changed."

Rory didn't follow. "What?"

Mercutio burst into song " _Oh dieu! Que de bijoux, est-ce un rève charmant qui m'éblouit, ou si je veille?"_

"Are you-"

_"Mes yeux n'ont jamais vu de richesse pareille!”_

“Are you finished?”

“Yes." Rory made a face, but Mercutio continued _"_ Linneus' new client. The muscled one with fur. You remember him, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah. He seemed nice enough."

"He's been showering Linneus with gifts and attention. Claret and I have a betting pool on when he asks to buy Linneus' contract."

Suddenly Rory understood. "So Linneus could leave and never see Atros again."

Mercutio looked distant. "Could he, really?"

"You mean, would he?" Rory shrugged. "Maybe Atros is nicer when you get to know him, and he really loves Linneus. It's not really our business. And you never really know what's going on in someone else's relationship."

"Although that is, literally speaking, our business. But I know a subject change when I see one!" Mercutio leaned forward and tapped Rory on the nose. "Boop! What brings you to Maison du Freak?"

Rory flushed. "I wasn't- I mean, I…I don't…" Was it his imagination, or did Mercutio look less predatory than usual? "I… gotanewthingfromReedandifyouwantityoucanhaveitIguessIhaven'tuseditIswear!”

Mercutio smiled. "That's very thoughtful of you, but you're going to have to give me more information than that. How do I know it's something I haven't already got?"

He was definitely enjoying this, and Rory hated him for it. "It's kind of… curved?" Rory muttered. "Squiggly? And it… buzzes."

Mercutio clapped his hands together. "Does it have multiple speeds?!"

"Um. Maybe? Like I said, I didn't try, so-"

"No more questions~ I've been hearing about that beauty for weeks and I can't wait to get my hands on it!" Mercutio clapped like a seal with a scary grin. "Vibrations are the future, my prudish friend! The future! They're _relentless."_

"Great," Rory said dully. "You can take it anytime. I don't even get what it's supposed to do."

Mercutio hummed to himself before seeming to realize Rory was still in the room. "You don't? It's a prostate massager."

Rory frowned, thinking about it. "Should I know what a prostate is?"

Mercutio's jaw dropped. "You're joking. You _have_ one!"

"I do?"

He hated that pitying look in Mercutio's eyes. "I suppose you never had an anatomy lesson. Or a special scientist friend to play doctor with. But I'm sure you've felt it, puppy. It's that _really nice_ spot just a little bit up your-"

"Up _there_?!" Rory interrupted, face hot again.

Mercutio raised his eyebrows. "We're all adults here, puppy. You can say the dirty words. I promise it's not a spanking offense… well, unless you'd _like_ it to be…"

"I can say 'ass' just fine!" Rory snapped. "I was just surprised. I mean, I guess there's some… angles that are better than others, but I never felt like… like there was one that was _really_ good." He thought about it for a moment. "Maybe that's what Reed's been trying to do with his finger… but it never works. Are you sure I have a prostate?"

"Unless you've been playing Cesario since you arrived, I'm very sure." Mercutio made a disgusted face. "I've known some hamfisted fumblings in my time but that is just depressing. Unacceptable, even!"

"You're not going to say anything to him, are you?" Rory asked, suddenly terrified.

Mercutio mimed a zipper over his mouth. "Lips are sealed. Neither the lash nor the rack shall break me! Oooh, the lash…"

"I still don't actually get what it is, though," Rory interrupted. "It's just a random spot? How deep? Could you show me?"

Mercutio lit up, and Rory realized, with dawning horror, what he'd just said.

"I… I didn't mean…"

"What a good little student you are! But don't think too much, puppy. It isn't random at all. It's, shall we say, the internal bit that's connected to your external bits. Now, you might be able to figure it out yourself from there, but if you've got concerns, I would be delighted to demonstrate!"

Rory hesitated. He really could just go and mess around, like he usually did. It would certainly be less embarrassing. But… he was curious. "When you say 'demonstrate', you mean on your body, right? No one's supposed to touch me but Lord Reed."

"Don't screw up that cute little face of yours, puppy. If that's the way you want it, that's the way I'll do it." Mercutio leaned back. _"Is_ that what you want?"

"I…" Rory's mouth was dry all of a sudden. "Maybe?"

"This isn't some kind of lifetime commitment, you know. If you're uncomfortable, just say the word. Or get up and leave. You're not _my_ slave." Mercutio unbuttoned his shirt a little, and Rory swallowed.

"Well, I… I guess?" Mercutio was still unbuttoning his shirt, though at a much more leisurely pace than Rory had ever seen Reed go about it. It was almost as if he wasn't aware of what he was doing. "You're really not going to try and tie me up or hit my balls or anything?"

"Don't sound so disappointed, puppy."

Rory scowled. "Why am I even considering this? I want to strangle you."

To his great annoyance, this only seemed to please Mercutio. 'That's a degree to love! Also costs extra for insurance purposes."

"I don't love _you!_ I love R-" Rory realized what he was saying and cut himself off before he could incriminate himself. _Please think I meant Reed._

"Respectable types, I know." Mercutio sighed dramatically and leaned back on his hands, which made his now unbuttoned shirt slide off his shoulders and down his arms. Whatever it was Mercutio did, it certainly kept him infuriatingly fit. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it. It's only a demonstration. Since you lack education, leave it to Professor Mercutio to fill the holes in your knowledge. Metaphorically speaking."

Rory glanced at the door. "And if I leave now or later, you're not going to hold this over me when you want a favor, are you?"

Mercutio's eyebrows shot up. "The thought had not occurred to me, but that's certainly an insight into your own mind, puppy. No, I intend no such thing. Besides, even if I did, do you really think anyone would believe me?"

"I guess not," Rory said reluctantly.

They sat in less than comfortable silence for a long moment.

"Puppy, I'm going to need a clear 'yes' or 'no' from you," Mercutio said suddenly.

“Oh!” Rory said, startled. It was kind of shocking to realize someone actually cared. He chewed his lip for a moment before finally deciding, “Okay, yes.”

“Music to my ears." Mercutio sprung up and begun going through the drawers in his numerous cabinets, pulling things out seemingly at random and muttering to himself. "One moment please! Don't spoil the magic by looking too closely!"

Rory was baffled, but found he didn't entirely mind. Mercutio was humming as he skipped around, something cheerful that Rory almost recognized.

And then he began fiddling with his pants and Rory immediately turned away, embarrassed. Except then he was looking at the chains hanging from the wall, so he kept turning until he was staring out the open window.

"Does sound travel from here?" Rory asked, apprehensive. "I mean, do you think anyone can hear what goes on in this room when the windows are open like this?"

"Well, I'm sure _someone_ can, but it's only an alley back there. Believe me, Atros has taken every measure to make sure clients in the Teahouse don't hear a peep out of this room. By the way, you might want to get off the bed. Don't worry, all the benches are squeaky clean."

"Oh!" Rory leapt up, and parked himself gingerly on the bench Mercutio had occupied before, facing the bed. Mercutio was now fully naked and carrying a small armful of… things. Rory tried not to watch Mercutio's flaccid penis bobbing along.

Mercutio deposited his things and practically bounced onto the bed. "Having second thoughts?"

"No," Rory said irritably. "Just wondering if you really need all of that."

"Oh, probably not _all_. But it never hurts to be prepared." Mercutio plucked up two little things that looked kind of like hair clips Rory had seen Claret with sometimes. " _These_ , though…"

"What are they?"

Mercutio grinned. "Encouragement."

Rory was about to question that cryptic response when Mercutio opened one of the clips and, with a little shiver, clamped it on his left nipple.

One of Rory’s hands clenched.

Mercutio opened the second clip, and clamped it on his other nipple with a gasp of "Hurts so good!"

"That's painful?" Rory's voice had gone hoarse.

 _"Very."_ Mercutio arched his back, and Rory couldn't help noticing that he wasn't so flaccid anymore.

Rory watched with fascinated horror as Mercutio pulled and twisted the clamps on his nipples, his dick visibly responding despite not being touched at all. It was… _bizarre._ It was…

Mercutio's face was as flushed as Rory felt, his head tilted to the side as he breathed heavily with what was either agony or ecstasy. Agony _and_ ecstasy?

Rory swallowed, hard. If he wasn't unaffected, it was because of the noises Mercutio was making. Anyone would have a reaction to that… that squealing.

"Now," Mercutio purred, "I'm ready to perform."

 _That_ wasn't _a performance?_

Mercutio plucked a bottle from the pile (one which Rory couldn't help noticing seemed to be larger than the one Linneus had gifted him) with one hand, lazily stroking himself with the other. "I'd ask if you have any particular preferences at this juncture, puppy, but if you're going to stammer out 'whatever you want' then please keep your silence."

Rory wasn't entirely sure what Mercutio was talking about, so he didn't say anything.

Mercutio smiled and turned to select a blue object which was half buried under other squiggly bumpy things. The top of the bottle was popped off, and he began to coat the bulbous tip of the toy with the bottle's contents, somewhat less generously than Rory might have expected if he was thinking clearly.

"You're, um, lubing that? As well as yourself?"

Mercutio laughed, but continued what he was doing. "Just this. I don't need much assistance."

"R-right." Rory got the general idea. But he was a little surprised, privately. He enjoyed that part, running a wet finger around his hole, building up the anticipation of being pushed into.

At some point, Mercutio had slid his ass forward so it was almost entirely off the bed, legs spread wide and bracing his lower back against the edge of the mattress. His cock twitched, and Rory swallowed again. He was glad for the wind coming in through the open windows.

"Uno momento, por favor." Mercutio dropped the bottle and toy beside him, and, before Rory could get annoyed, removed one of the clips from his nipples with a sharp inhale.

Rory stared at the abused nipple and the skin around it, which was just as visibly affected. Mercutio took off the other clip with a gasp, and Rory watched, open mouthed, as the colorless skin was flooded with reddish pink. "W-why did you do that?" At some point, Rory's hand had landed on his crotch. His pants were starting to feel uncomfortably tight, but he wasn't _doing_ anything with his hand, just… resting.

Mercutio's eyes, which had fluttered shut, snapped open and regarded Rory. "Because I have a very special client scheduled for later today. And it really would be gauche to greet a lover with the marks from another encounter still visible on one's body."

"I… see." He wasn't sure he did, really, but increasingly Rory was certain that didn't matter. "So."

"Impatient, aren't we, puppy?"

"Shut up. I'm not the naked squirming one here, so there's no point trying to embarrass me." Rory pointedly lowered his gaze to the subject of conversation. "Are you going to show me how to get to this prostate or just play with every other part of yourself until I get fed up and leave?"

Mercutio's cock twitched again. "Your wish is my command, darling."

Rory was about to retort _Don't call me that_ when he realized he sounded like Reed.

That shut him up.

Mercutio lowered the blue toy between his legs, down to his ass cheeks, which the toy pushed apart. It wasn't clear at first that he was doing anything, but then the rounded head began to disappear, ever so slowly, burying itself up Mercutio's ass.

 _Fuck it._ Rory unbuttoned his pants and reached inside to fondle himself.

All that was visible now was the slim upward curve of the toy… which meant the biggest part was-

"Now," Mercutio said, his voice husky, "You'll see this is curved for a reason." His hand twisted, pulling the toy down sharply (like a… handle?) and making his hips jerk. _"There!"_

Rory forced himself to concentrate, because he still didn't really get what he'd just seen. It hadn't gone all that deep into Mercutio, but the slim part seemed to be working as an angling device, and he'd seen what it looked like outside of Mercutio, so…

"Behind your balls!" Rory blurted out.

"By George," Mercutio panted, "I think he's got it!" His hips rolled, grinding down onto the toy, Rory thought. "Go on, puppy."

"I…" Rory shook his head. "I can't do this with my pants on."

 _"Ooh_ , I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!"

"Shut up." But Rory was peeling off his pants all the same, as fast as he could manage because it was _so_ much more comfortable without them. And if he straddled the bench like so, then- "I'm going to need some of your lube."

"You can borrow more than that, if you're feeling frisky." Mercutio waggled his eyebrows before tossing Rory the bottle, which he barely managed to catch. "Careful!"

"Warn me next time you throw something!" Rory retorted. "It'd serve you right if I _had_ dropped it." He tried to pour some on his hand, but the stuff was gloopier than ketchup and shampoo put together, so after a couple useless shakes of the bottle Rory got frustrated and started scraping it out with a finger. "So, if that's where the prostate is…" Rory set down the bottle behind himself, then thought better of it and put it on the floor so it couldn't fall.

"Are you going to keep me in suspense, puppy?" To Rory's satisfaction, Mercutio's hand left the toy and moved up to grope at his own balls.

"Who's impatient now?" Rory retorted, grinning.

"Only asking," Mercutio grinned back. "A little delayed gratification never hurt anyone. No need for arrogance."

Rory raised his eyebrows, spread his legs and lowered his fingers. "If," he said, sliding his fingers between his ass cheeks and spreading them apart, "I can reach my prostate by curling something in _here_ …" His middle finger swirled around his hole by way of demonstration. "Wouldn't that mean I'm making contact with it when I touch myself…" Rory drew his slick fingers up, just a little, where he'd noticed sensitivity before, " _here?"_

Mercutio moaned. "Very good!"

 _He wants this_ , Rory thought, watching Mercutio watching him. _And he can't have it._ That only pleased Rory more.

"I could just do this," Rory said innocently, using his other hand to play with his balls. "Or…" Rory dragged his finger down again, letting out a breathy sound for effect, "I could see if that kind of thing works inside me too." Slowly, deliberately, Rory tilted his head back and rolled his shoulders.

If he was going to act like his sister, he might as well play it to the hilt.

"Tease," Mercutio accused, still grinding against the toy, his thumb rubbing against the head of his cock.

"Should I fuck myself on my fingers for your approval?" Rory widened his eyes in what Remy always called his woodland creature act.

Mercutio exhaled loudly. "Are you asking for additional suggestions, or announcing coming attractions?"

"If I were asking, you'd know it," Rory retorted. "Is that the biggest toy you've got?"

Mercutio grinned. "Not at all! Interested?"

Rory tilted his head and moved his hand back to the bench. "Why don't _you_ try it? See if you can find anything the size of my cock."

He couldn't quite believe he'd actually said that, but judging by the look on Mercutio's face, he'd gauged his audience correctly.

Mercutio eagerly dug around in the pile and produced a truly impressive coppery imitation dick that made Rory's breath catch.

"Yes," Rory said hoarsely, grasping his cock. "That."

Mercutio pulled out the blue thing and tossed it behind him, faster than Rory would have liked. Possibly Mercutio noticed Rory's annoyance, because the next thing he said was "May I?"

Rory's cock twitched in his hand. "Yes."

As if to make up for before, Mercutio was almost infuriatingly methodical in his lead up to sodomizing himself.

Inch by intoxicating inch the thick object sank into Mercutio's hole, pushing apart his ass cheeks. Rory's hand was working his cock at the sight, even though Rory couldn't seem to make up his mind whether it was the memory of what being stretched like that felt like or the sight making him think of fucking Mercutio that was doing it for him.

"That's as far as it goes," Mercutio breathed.

Was he… waiting for instructions?

"Leave it there then."

Well. There Mercutio was, with a huge coppery thing jammed up his ass, squirming awkwardly with his hands on the bed, waiting on Rory's command.

Rory licked his lips. "You're still tender from those clips on your nipples, aren't you?"

"That's right," Mercutio purred.

"What if you put them back on?"

 _Mercutio's_ cock twitched then. "What if? You should really be more decisive, puppy. Though I'll remind you I can't have any marks on me."

Rory hadn't really been wedded to the idea anyway. "Forget the clips, then. Just use your hands- only on the nipples, though!"

"I'll make a dom out of you yet," Mercutio said approvingly.

"Shut up." Rory's hand sped up regardless. He was pleased to see Mercutio's hips still arching every so often even as he pulled and twisted at his nipples, probably trying to get the copper cylinder to move a little inside him. It would have been very disappointing if Mercutio seemed to forget something so big was holding him open.

Rory wondered what Mercutio's client was going to do. Gag him? Rory certainly would if he could. Would he just hurt Mercutio for an hour or so and then leave, or hurt him then fuck him? Or hurt him while he fucked him.

Then again, maybe Mercutio would be the one doing the fucking. Rory's eyes strayed to Mercutio's cock again. It was slick with pre-come, and in very nice proportion to the rest of Mercutio's body. Rory's was bigger, but he could think of worse things than having that inside him…

"Puppy, if you don't give one of us something to do, I may not be able to maintain performance standards, if you know what I mean," Mercutio's voice brought Rory out of his momentary reverie. "Fun as this is, it's a touch repetitive. May I do something else, or do you plan to demonstrate more of your own range?"

"If you're bored, get on the floor," Rory snapped. "On your knees."

Mercutio smiled. "Shall I go for a ride on this dildo?"

Rory filed the word choice away for future reference. "Fine. And you can touch your balls."

Mercutio obliged without another word, grinding with abandon and Rory found he suddenly really wasn't concerned about whatever it was that Mercutio did with other people.

Rory gave up on his last fragment of modesty and spat on the fingers of his other hand, reaching down to push his middle finger into his hole, trying not to moan as he began to work it in and out, playing with the tight muscles. Remembering what Mercutio had done, curiously he curled his finger and brushed against… something. Something _good._

Not as good as Mercutio had made it look, really, but at this point Rory didn't particularly care.

"Do whatever you want," Rory gasped out, and to his gratification, Mercutio's hands started working his dick almost violently.

And then, the unwelcome thought: had he done this with Remy?

Rory came with a groan and slid down to the floor, boneless and vaguely surprised at himself. Sleepy and relaxed, he made a lazy grab for his pants.

When Rory glanced up at Mercutio, he nearly did a double take, because at some point in between Rory's climax and now Mercutio had managed to switch which hand was furiously jerking himself off and stuff the other one in his mouth.

Rory almost asked, stupidly, why he was worried about making noise now, but he realized in time that Mercutio's mouth was open too wide and there was too much filling it for it to possibly be about modesty. Especially when Mercutio's eyes met his, and his fist (fuck, _was_ it a fist?) started _moving._

Rory flushed, without quite knowing why, and Mercutio came with a muffled screech that made Rory clap his hands over his ears and just manage to roll out of the way of rogue spunk.

"What was that?" Rory demanded.

"No offense, puppy, but I left traditional methods behind me years ago. Since neither of us have all day, I needed a little something extra to finish myself off." Mercutio sighed dreamily and reached to pull out the copper toy, slowly.

"And by 'extra' you mean choking yourself?"

"Now, now, there's a world of difference between choking yourself and gagging yourself," Mercutio lectured. "And though I have some delightful items besides me that would have done just as well, they would almost certainly have left me sore and I'm afraid my lovely client has a higher priority today than you do."

Rory made a face as he pulled his pants back on. "I guess I should just be grateful you didn't start putting those clips on your balls or something. Do you even want the thing I was going to give you?"

"Of course I do!"

Rory sighed and zipped his fly. "I'll get it to you later then. Can I use your bathroom? To wash my hands and stuff."

Mercutio yawned. "Go ahead. I'll start cleaning up over here."

After Rory was confident that his hands were clean and his bladder was empty, he came back out to see a semi-clothed Mercutio with his hair tied back wearing rubber gloves and sorting toys into two piles (the ones he'd actually used were in a bin to themselves). At least he was organized.

"Well, thanks, I guess," Rory said, awkwardly. "You're not as creepy as I thought." _Seeing how as far as I know, I'm the only one here getting off to his twin sister._

"I've corrupted you!" Mercutio exclaimed joyfully. "I'm so proud!"

"Shut up." Rory rolled his eyes. "Enjoy your client."

"Oh, believe me, I will."

As Rory wandered downstairs, his thoughts strayed back to the note Reed had sent him. _I understand what it is that I did wrong_ , he'd said. Was it too much to hope that he actually did?

He stopped in his tracks when he saw his sister sauntering on ahead him.

If he stood still and didn't say a thing, maybe she wouldn't turn around.

Rory really didn't feel like talking to Remy today, not after she'd been going around telling everyone he was the crazy one. Not after she'd gone out of her way to fuck Axis _again_ and send him after Rory like some kind of retarded attack dog.

To his relief, she turned a corner without seeming to notice him.

At least, he thought it was relief.

How was it that she could steal his own words and use them to lie to Axis, watch him nearly suffocate to death without lifting a finger, and still hold him in her arms like there was no one else in the world she loved so dearly?

Rory shivered.

He thought he heard someone let out a sob, not too far away.

_Is that coming from the kitchen? God, is Atros running a brothel here or a hothouse for the emotionally disturbed?_

To Rory's surprise, it was Claret, perched on one of the stools in the kitchen, elbows on the island with her face buried in her hands.

"Claret? Are you… crying?"

"N-no!" A loud sniffle suggested otherwise.

Rory raised his eyebrows. "Okay, you're not crying. But something must be bothering you, or you wouldn't be here before any food is ready."

"It's nothing," she mumbled. "Just, yesterday was my birthday, and I missed another lineup and… I'm being stupid, I know. Nobody likes a crybaby."

"Who told you that?" That came out a little sharper than Rory intended.

Claret lifted her head, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. "Argent." She let out a sob, and Rory quickly grabbed a couple napkins.

"If it makes you feel any better, I cry all the time, you know." Rory settled himself on the stool next to Claret, who blew her nose loudly. "Happy belated birthday?"

"Thanks," Claret said glumly. "But it's no good. I should have been in that lineup! Your sister gets more business than I do and she just got here."

"She does?" Rory realized his mistake and quickly amended, "I mean, so what if she does? It's not like it's a competition. Besides, being in the lineup might not have made a difference. Anyone who picked Mercutio was pretty much going to-"

"Mercutio?" Claret's lip trembled. "Mercutio has a new client _too?"_

"Wait, was that not who we were talking about?" Rory was starting to get a headache. "How do you 'miss' a lineup, anyway?" _  
_

They heard the doorbell ringing, faintly.

Claret swung her legs off the stool and slid down, an intent look on her face. "It's too early for Lilith's appointment, and Linneus is already entertaining so… that has to be for Mercutio."

"Well, not necessi- hey, where are you going?"

"To see who Mercutio's client is!" Claret pulled off her high-heeled shoes and tiptoed out of the kitchen. "Come on, you know you're curious to see what kind of weirdos he gets!"

Reluctantly, Rory followed her. At least this seemed to have temporarily cheered Claret up.

Whoever it was was wearing some kind of cloak. Rory wasn't sure if the cloak made it hard to see much else or if it was Claret being in the way that did it, so he got on hands and knees and wedged himself in underneath Claret's boobs to get a better look.

"Is that a woman?" he whispered.

"Either that or a man in a dress," Claret whispered back. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

"I do have an appointment." It did sound like a woman's voice, with maybe a hint of apprehension in her tone.

"Of course," the maid said quickly, closing the door behind her. "Mercutio should be down any moment now, miss. If you would take a s…"

The woman had lifted back her hood, and Rory could see why the maid had faltered. She was incredibly beautiful, even from this distance, with long pale blue hair, a sharp profile and elegant hands.

From above him, Claret let out a muffled shriek and seized Rory's collar. "I can't _believe_ it!"

Rory couldn't either. _Mercutio_ got to be with pretty girls and he didn't?

Claret dragged him backwards into the kitchen, where Rory finally managed to pull her hands off him. "What are you _doing?"_ Rory snapped.

"Do you know who that _is?!"_ Claret demanded.

"No, but it's not like-"

"That's Rhys' _sister!_ " Claret hissed. "The _princess!”_

"Oh." This seemed even more improbable than before. "The one that my door got kicked in because of?"

"Yes!" Claret threw up her hands. "Well, I guess your sister's not the only client thief around here. And to think I was hoping Axis might have put in a good word for me with his regulars..."

"Do you _want_ your door kicked in?" Rory pointed out. "You slept with Rhys too, right?"

“Well, yeah,” Claret admitted. “If you call it that? I mean, he went down on me and came and stuff, but we never-“

“Okay!” Rory rubbed his face with his palm. "Way too much information."

"Sorry! I don't get to talk shop much, you know?" Claret sighed, and glanced back at the doorway. "You think she's still there? I can't believe I'm jealous of _Mercutio!"_

"Me either." And to think, he'd assumed Mercutio was waiting for another _guy_. Not that Rory ever planned on divulging the context of that misunderstanding to Claret.

Claret scowled, to Rory's confusion. "Yeah, well, not all of us are as lucky as you! I'm gonna see if he's come down yet."

It wasn't until they were out of the kitchen again that Rory realized Claret must have thought he was registering disbelief at Claret being jealous rather than commiserating.

Probably for the best, even if he didn't feel lucky at all.

"You know, it would be just like him to pop up behind us…" Rory ventured, but Claret shushed him.

As it turned out, Mercutio was at the foot of the stairs, hand on the banister, almost blocking their view of the princess. He'd really gone all out appearance-wise, with a tailcoat edged in silver and cuff-links. Even his hair looked fuller, somehow.

Just as Rory was beginning to wonder how much they'd missed, Mercutio swept a dramatic bow. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Oh, it isn't your fault," the princess said. "I was early. It was inconsiderate of me."

"Not at all! I never schedule appointments back to back. You haven't interrupted anyone, and absolutely no one will interrupt you, your highness."

"Please, just Evelyn." A pause. "Will you sit?"

"If it pleases you."

"You think she doesn't know what he's into?" Claret whispered.

"Sssh!"

With Mercutio sitting next to Princess Evelyn, Rory could finally make out both their faces. To his surprise, the princess' cheeks were pink.

"You're so nice," she said, after a moment. "I thought that… You aren't at all like Axis."

"I think of Axis as a blunt instrument," Mercutio said mildly. "Perfectly nice if you just want to get the job done quickly and inelegantly, but if one requires finesse, well."

Rory rather thought Princess Evelyn might take offense to this, considering she'd chosen Axis before, but instead she smiled. "Not _too_ nice, at least. But I wouldn't have minded if my brother brought _you_ to the palace."

"Wouldn't you?" Mercutio brushed her hair back and whispered something in her ear which made her burst into delighted giggles.

"She actually thinks he's funny?" Claret whispered.

Rory covered Claret's mouth, just in time to hear the princess ask Mercutio "Do you really know how to-"

She'd either mumbled the rest or whispered it, but Mercutio immediately said, "Oh, yes."

Claret made a questioning noise and Rory reluctantly removed his hand because now Mercutio and Princess Evelyn were just whispering to each other and laughing.

"Maybe she's not actually his client," Claret said, but then Mercutio stood and offered his hand to the princess, who blushed and rose to take it.

"What are you doing in a place like this?" Princess Evelyn asked, moving close to him.

Mercutio smiled. "You'll soon find out."

"Okay, I think we've seen enough," Claret muttered, as Mercutio bent to kiss the princess, who wrapped her arms around him.

"Yeah," Rory said, turning away. He hated Mercutio a little bit for getting at least one client that talked to him like a human being.

"Well, it's like you said," Claret remarked when they'd gotten back in the kitchen. "Either she runs screaming when she finds out what she paid for or she's as bad as he is and I'm better off not having her."

Rory shrugged, turning away so she hopefully wouldn't notice he was feeling moody. "Do you get many women clients?"

"You better not be about to ask what I could possibly do with them!"

Rory's face heated. "No! No, I wasn't... I'm… sure you could do plenty."

"You bet your cute butt I can!" Claret sounded pleased. "It's a shame you never got to try girls. Unless you're one of those guys that thinks we've all got stinky vaginas or whatever."

Rory buried his face in his hands. "I promise you I've _never_ thought that. Can we change the subject, please?"

"Okay, what's for lunch?"

"Yogurt," Rory said sourly. "Or corn on the cob and salad, I guess."

"Euugh, yogurt." Claret made a face. "Corn, please! With lots of butter."

"I'm going to have to go to market then." Rory glanced out the window. "Will you ask Argent if that's all right?"

"Okay, I guess." Claret yawned. "I'm gonna hang around and make sure I don't miss any more customers, but if there's a trip, it probably won't be just you and Argent."

"Fine." _As long as it isn't me, Argent and Remy._

After Claret left, Rory glanced around the kitchen. He didn't actually plan on making lunch just yet, but he figured he might as well make it look like he was doing something. As far as he'd seen, there weren't any melon ballers here, but he could probably just cut up this cantaloupe the usual way and it would keep for a few hours.

Split it in half, split it in quarters...

"Rory!"

He jumped, dropping the knife. "Claret, don't _do_ that! I almost cut myself!"

"But there's another pretty girl in the hall! Do I look all right? I've never seen a pregnant customer before, but…"

"Hold on, pregnant?" Rory turned around for that.

"Don't be _judgmental_ , Rory," Claret lectured him.

 _Pot, meet kettle_. "Claret, I'm pretty sure that's Atros' wife."

"Oh." Claret visibly deflated. "Guess he wouldn't think it was funny if I told her I was free, huh?"

Rory felt an inexplicable pang of guilt. "You can still talk to her. She must be pretty lonely, I saw her having tea with my sister once."

"Aw, Remy's not so bad. I know it's probably been rough lately with her getting settled in and whatever's been going on with you and Lord Reed, but you should be a little more forgiving, you know?" Claret fidgeted. "It was kinda scary seeing you just _go for_ her like that at dinner. Lilith said Axis started the fight but… she didn't see you pulling Remy's hair, so... I'm not… asking what happened or anything, and I believe you won't do it again, but I… don't think you should take your problems out on other people."

Rory stared at the cantaloupe on the board. "You don't know her."

"Okay, it's none of my business, I get it. But can you just explain one thing to me?"

He couldn't look at her. "What?"

"If you think she's so terrible, why did you keep that picture of her? And don't say it was an accident, because I heard you had it _framed_ before Lord Reed made you get rid of it."

Rory swallowed. "I don't think she's terrible. I never said that."

Claret sighed. "Fine. I'll go see what Mrs. Atros wants."

Rory rinsed his hands. "I should tell Linneus lunch is almost ready. His appointment's almost over, isn't it?"

While Claret went to the main hall, Rory headed for the cramped spiral staircase that was usually used by the servants. He wasn't actually supposed to be wandering around where people could see his visibly bruised face, but he was less concerned with sparing Atros' wife the sight of him and more with getting upstairs quickly enough to 'accidentally' encounter Teahouse clients.

If he could get some rumors started that Atros smacked around his whores, so much the better.

Rory remembered where Linneus' room was. He also remembered that Linneus had said his new regular was kind, more than once.

He peered around the corner, waiting.

It looked like Rory was just in time, as the door flew open and the tall hairy guy came out, laughing. Linneus must have been just behind him, though all Rory could see was a slim hand, which the man kissed. What was his name? Had anyone ever said?

"I'm sorry I can't see more of you today, but you know I don't always get to make my own schedule," Linneus' voice said.

"I know, dove. Don't worry about it, I'll be back as soon as I can. Besides, my partner's probably already downstairs waitin' to shriek at me for not payin' enough attention to him. We've all got our commitments, eh?"

Rory ran back a bit when he saw the door closing, then started to walk briskly but without much focus, pretending not to see the big guy when he rounded the corner, right up until they crashed into each other.

"Hey, easy there! Oh, it's you again. Did you cut your hair?"

Rory clapped his hand over his bruised eye. "Oh! Er… no? Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. I'll just-"

The man squinted at him. "Hey, what's wrong with your face?"

"N-nothing!" Rory pressed the heel of his hand into his cheek, spreading his fingers just a bit wider to give the man a better look. "It was just an accident. Please don't tell anyone you saw me, I'm not supposed-"

"Hold on, I don't think we _have_ met." The man held up his hands. "I'm Gilder. What's your name, kiddo? And relax, I swear I don't bite."

"R-Rory…" He was momentarily jarred out of his act by the realization of who Gilder must have mistaken him for. "Do you know my twin sister? She's got much longer hair than me."

Gilder snapped his fingers. "That explains it! Wouldn't say I know her, really, she seemed too scared of her own shadow to do much more than run into me and run away. Like you, but worse. What's _with_ you two? You seem kinda young to be working at a place like this."

"We're eighteen," Rory said immediately. He realized he'd lowered his hand and froze, not sure whether he should cover his eye again and run off or try to talk his way out of-

"What the _fuck_ happened to you?" Gilder looked pale. "Do you have _clients,_ kiddo?"

"Just one. He pays Atros to… have me to himself." Rory blushed and looked away. "About the bruises, it's-"

Gilder shook his head violently. "Kiddo, I don't wanna hear it. I know you and your sister probably had it real rough to get here so young, and I know there ain't much I can do to give you better options. I don't have deep pockets, but I've got a whole lot of these."

Rory stared at the small knife in Gilder's hand. It looked like a paring knife.

"Take it," Gilder said urgently. "Don't go nuts or anything, but you've got the right to defend yourself. I don't care how rich that… _guy_ … is, anyone who beats on a kid is scum, and you don't deserve it. Tell your sister she doesn't deserve it either, whatever it is. But don't tell anyone I gave you this, eh?"

Gingerly, Rory took the knife. His fingers wrapped around the handle, just the right size for his hand. "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Take care of yourself, kid. And your sister, too." Gilder touched two fingers to his brow in a mock salute, and sauntered off.

Well, that hadn't gone quite like Rory expected. Not that he was complaining, but… he had to find a safe place for this knife. It was probably not going to pass for an object of sentimental value, and he'd really be screwed if it came out that someone thought _Reed_ had slugged Rory.

Rory returned to his room, which it looked like had been cleaned recently. The bed had been made and sheets had been changed, and his clothes were folded and on the table.

The maids didn't put things in his drawers, usually. Maybe if he stuffed the knife underneath three pairs of pants?

Wait, his shirts were wrinkled. Folded, but wrinkled. That was weird.

It couldn't be Remy, since she'd quit being a maid. So either things were really falling apart downstairs or somebody wasn't happy with him specifically.

Claret thought Rory had started the fight with Axis. Who else did?

 _What was I supposed to do, just let him beat me up and talk about Remy like she was some… like she was his_ prize _or something?_

Rory kicked over the fireplace screen in frustration. Though it was monumentally unsatisfying as an outlet for his fury, it did give Rory an idea.

His drawers Rory couldn't be positive would be left alone, and the same went for underneath his bed. But, seeing as it was summer, and no one was using the fireplace… he knew from experience the best place to hide something was in plain sight.

Carefully, Rory tucked the knife behind the logs and replaced the screen.

After he'd taken a shower, Rory heard someone knock on his door.

"Message for Rory Dubois!" Claret's voice sang out.

Rory opened the door. "You look like you’re in a better mood," he observed.

"Never mind me, this is important!" Claret clapped her hands together. "Lord Reed is coming to see you tomorrow. Aren't you happy?"

Rory blinked. "Sure. That's great." God, he even _sounded_ like he was lying now. "I mean… why are _you_ excited?"

"Well, you guys had a fight, right?" Claret patted him on the shoulder. "He's probably coming to apologize. So you can forgive yourself for whatever's been eating you, and know that you didn't screw it up that bad, right?”

She had no idea. "I’m not so sure about that ," Rory said honestly. "But thanks, Claret. I'm sorry if I've been a jerk."

"Aww, it's okay." Claret ruffled his hair. "Just do me one favor, okay?"

"What?" Rory said, apprehensive.

"Tell me how it goes!" Claret grinned. "In detail."

Rory's face burned. "Why would you want to know that?!"

"Because I'm bored and Mercutio is gross!" Claret pouted. "It's not like I could steal your man, I'm obviously not his type."

Rory covered his face. "Okay, look, if I answer some general questions tonight will you not ever ask me again?"

"Deal!" Claret clapped her hands again. "And if you ever want to hear about _my_ clients, just let me know!”

_What did I just agree to?_

He'd also forgotten to remind Claret about asking Argent to go to market. Oh well. He could probably make do for now.

The kitchen was blessedly empty of other people when Rory got downstairs, so he immediately laid out the ingredients he was definitely using. There wasn't any dressing for the salad and he didn't particularly feel like making any, so lemon juice would have to do. Most of the greens were starting to turn, so Rory threw out the nasty stuff and decided it was going to be more of a fruit salad. If anyone had a complaint, they could take it up with whoever’s idea it was to only grant him special permission to leave the Teahouse once in a while.

They'd have to let him go to market, Lord Reed was coming tomorrow.

Once the salad was done, Rory sat down to shuck corn. He'd only been at it for maybe five minutes when he heard someone coming.

"Do you need any help with that?"

Rory couldn't imagine immaculate Linneus getting down on a stool and picking silk off corncobs. "No, that's fine. Um… how are you?"

Linneus looked blank. "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"No reason!" Ugh, he'd really stepped in it now. "I just… feel like I haven't seen you around as much lately?"

"There's nothing for you to worry about." Linneus filled the kettle with water. "But thank you for asking."

"Uh, you're welcome." Rory turned back to his corn, and for a moment there was silence.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Rory?"

Rory froze. "Um… sure?"

"Why did you choose this?"

Linneus was resolutely avoiding eye contact, watching the kettle. It was impossible to read him, but the emphasis in the sentence had not been on _you_.

So Rory knew he couldn't say, _I had no choice_. No matter how bad his options had been, he had chosen. And tempted as he was to say _it seemed like a good idea at the time_ it would probably seem flippant and evasive. "I needed to work," he said, finally. "I didn't have any connections or job experience or any useful talents at all, really."

Linneus glanced at him. "That isn't true. You're a wonderful baker, and an exceptional cook."

Rory shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I didn't go to school, I haven't got a certificate, and I was never an apprentice. I don't know anything about the way restaurants work or even bakeries. No one would give me a chance, and I don't blame them." _I'm just a spoiled rich kid who ran away and didn't think it through._ "I should have just gone home, I guess. Instead I asked if there was any kind of business that wouldn't care that I didn't have qualifications, and they told me to ask Atros."

"For the position of cook?" It was hard to tell, but Rory thought Linneus looked a little paler than usual. "I was told that you volunteered your body."

Rory hesitated. The truth was, he'd never believed Atros would hire a teenage runaway to cook for him. But if he admitted that to Linneus, that was one lie undone, and he couldn't tell how quickly his entire persona here would unravel if Linneus knew he'd meant to whore himself out from the start. But if he let the lie come out too easily, that wouldn't seem real either. "I mean…" Rory squirmed, looking down at the corn. "I did. He didn't trick me or anything. I just kind of didn't expect him to ask about _that_ when I told him I was a good cook."

_Pick it apart. Notice the bits I'm leaving out for you. Help me tell you a story that makes you think we're the same._

"But you did accept." Too early to tell if that meant danger or if Rory could work with the observation. "Were you afraid if you asked to think about it, the offer would vanish?"

 _Oh thank god._ Rory jerked his head up, eyes wide. "I just needed the money so badly," he whispered. _Too much, maybe?_ "And I mean, I'd never had sex so I thought, well, how bad can it be? Not that it's _bad_. I just didn't know. It was kind of funny to think I was suddenly worth so much money after I'd been feeling so useless looking for a job."

"I was afraid too."

_What am I supposed to say to that?_

Linneus took the kettle off the stove, even though the water clearly hadn't boiled yet. "I had a choice, and I panicked and took the coward's way out. I couldn't be a man when it mattered most, and I've been paying for it ever since."

Rory swallowed, feeling guilty. "You know, making a decision you regret doesn't make you any less of a man," he ventured.

"Yes, I'm aware," Linneus said sharply, startling Rory. "I'll only ever be a cheap imitation of a woman, but I'd rather be that than a useless joke of a man."

Rory was baffled. "Couldn't you just be… yourself? I mean, I don't think you're a cheap imitation of a woman or a joke."

Linneus didn't smile. "That's sweet of you, Rory, but it's not as simple as you want it to be. Why do you think Axis singled you out to pick on when Rhys began seeing him?"

"Because I'm the youngest and the newest?" Rory shrugged. "It's not like he wasn't rude to the rest of you."

"And yet, it was you he targeted, again and again, until he attacked you in the kitchen." Rory stiffened. "What do you think the difference is between you and Axis?"

 _Be careful._ "He's, um. Well, he's a jerk. And he's tall. And he's…" Rory blushed. "More experienced than me."

"Is that all?"

"Well, honestly, he stinks a lot of the time. And he's got all those piercings and tattoos and stuff, like he's trying to hide behind them. And he's crude and noisy and-"

"Rory," Linneus cut him off. "He's _masculine_. You aren't. That's why he makes fun of you."

Rory stared at Linneus, who didn't blink. "Are you kidding me?"

"Why would I joke about something like that?" Linneus leaned against the counter. "Hasn't he told you that, over and over again, in his own way?"

_I'm not a fag like you, bitch!_

_Give it time, you look the part!_

_Nice apron, fairy._

Rory's stomach twisted. "I don't understand. I'm a _guy_. What does it matter what kind of clothes I wear or things I do or… or any of it! I'm not like you! I didn't study the way women talked and walked, I just grew up around them! No one's ever mistaken me for a girl! You don't have to be like _Axis_ to be _masculine!"_

_I should treat you as if you were a girl._

"And… and even if they did think I looked like a girl, that wouldn't make me one, because I know I'm not!" Rory pulled at his hair. "That's _stupid_. And you know what? I don't _care_ if you think I'm a useless joke of a man! If I tried to be the kind of man that Axis or even Gilder is _that_ would be a joke, because I'm not cut out for that. I know who I am, Linneus! _Do you?"_

Linneus stared at him.

_Oh my god, he really doesn't._

"I'm Xanthe's whore."

Linneus met Rory's eyes for a long moment, before he exhaled and looked out the window. "That's really all that matters anymore. I'm never going to be anything else. I envy you."

Rory felt cold. "Why?" _And who is Xanthe?_

"Because I can tell that you still believe you'll move on from this. You still have hope." Linneus' mouth curled in a smile that didn't touch the rest of his face at all. "Maybe Lord Reed will be a good person. Maybe he'll fall in love with you. Maybe he'll save you. Isn't that what you tell yourself?"

Rory swallowed. "Well, what am I supposed to do? Just give up?"

Linneus shrugged. "It's not for me to say."

Frustrated, Rory turned back to his corn, ripping the husks off violently.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Rory." Silence, as Rory kept his eyes on his work. "We all have dreams."

"Is that why you're sleeping with Atros?" The moment he said it, Rory regretted it.

"Yes." Rory looked up, shocked. "In case it turns out differently, this time."

_I guess that's the way to get him to open up. Vinegar. Not all flies like honey._

Some people, Rory thought, mistook cruelty for honesty.

Rory wondered what Linneus would say if he knew how similar he was to Remy in that respect.

"He's always dreamed of saving me. From his father, from Liard. From myself, I suppose, since there's no one left to blame. And I wanted to believe he could do it. I…" Were those _tears_ in Linneus' eyes? "I _wanted_ to believe. But I couldn't do it."

"Linneus," Rory said, desperately. "Please don't cry."

"Rory," Linneus whispered. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course!" Rory stood up, grabbing a napkin. "Here, use this."

Linneus took the napkin, and dabbed at his eyes. _God, he's so committed to looking beautiful he won't even blow his nose in front of me. Not that it seems to be running. How does he do that?_ "Even now, even though he tells me he loves me every day, I… I still don't believe it."

Linneus's eyes were searching Rory's face desperately, as though looking for something familiar. Rory made himself keep eye contact. "That he loves you?"

"That he ever could have saved me. That he ever…" Linneus' voice dropped so Rory could barely hear it. "He doesn't understand that I chose this _because_ I loved him."

"I'm.. not really sure what you're trying to say," Rory said, hesitantly.

The truth was, it didn't matter what Linneus was trying to say. Rory had a horrible feeling that he understood what Linneus _meant_ all the same.

"I had a choice," Linneus murmured. His voice was different, somehow. Less floaty and polished. More… rough. "I was going to be sold off somewhere far away, somewhere that I'd have no friends or family or anything of my own. Somewhere I'd never be found."

Was this what Linneus really sounded like? As a man?

"I said I'd do anything to stay and I meant it." Linneus' gaze sharpened, and when he spoke again his voice was back to normal. Funny, how Rory thought of it as normal, when it probably was an affectation. "Because if I was a courtesan here, even if it meant it would hurt him… it meant I would still get to see his face one last time."

Rory's heart thudded in his chest.

_Remy… is that why you followed me here?_

_Do you still love me, Remy?_

Linneus smiled again, that horribly false smile. "But I imagine it's different for you. You said you were running away. The future must have seemed brighter than the past. If there is anything I can do for you, please tell me, Rory."

"You've already done a lot," Rory said guiltily. "Like giving me the makeup and the, um, advice. When I was first starting."

"It was no trouble." Linneus glanced at Rory's face. "Besides, it seems like it's been wearing off in the heat."

"Oh, don't worry about it! Um, actually," Rory fidgeted. "There was something. I did already ask Claret to ask Argent, but… could I have permission to go to market today? I was hoping for some fresh fruit and vegetables and since Lord Reed is coming tomorrow-"

"It's no trouble. I'm sure Atros will allow it, providing you're supervised as always." Linneus turned away, then stopped. "Did you say you asked Claret to ask Argent?"

"Yes?"

"That's odd." Linneus glanced over his shoulder from the doorway. "I've never known Argent to have any influence over Atros' decisions."

Rory blinked. "Claret seemed so sure."

"Interesting." And then Linneus was gone.

Rory sat down, hard. He picked up the last corncob, and thought of Remy.

_I should have let Axis kill me._

The food was ready, though the scheduled time for lunch wasn't for another ten minutes or so. Rory went to the hall in case anyone was around, but there was no point shouting if no one was in earshot and they'd come when they saw the time, as Atros made them keep strict mealtimes.

The front door flew open. "WHERE GILDER?!"

_Then again, the clientele don't know that._

Rory shrank under the glare of a snub nosed sweaty person about his own height. _Woman? Or have I finally found another short guy? It does_ sound _like a guy…_

"You!" Snub Nose jabbed a finger at Rory, advancing on him. "Gilder here, yes? Sacha come to pick up."

"Uh, he _was_ here," Rory admitted. "But he left at least an hour ago."

Snub Nose muttered something foreign that sounded like a curse under their breath. "Scared little boy certain?"

"I'm not a _little boy_ ," Rory said, somewhat offended. "You don't look so old yourself, you know. And yes, I'm certain."

Snub Nose narrowed his eyes. "Sacha old enough. This country full of tree people. You not make Sacha…" he craned his neck demonstratively, "so assume you not full grown. Gilder return, yes?"

"Well, I'm not a child. And I don't know where he went or if he's coming back." Rory crossed his arms. "Why does it matter to you, anyway?"

Sacha scowled. "He is what you call 'business partner.' Sacha cannot take job without conversation. Sacha also cannot pay… cannot pay room to sleep if Gilder spend money on whore house."

"I see." Rory wondered if he should tell Sacha about personal pronouns. "Okay, if I see him, I'll tell him you were looking for him. Sacha, right?"

"Sacha Edorovka, yes, you pay attention," Sacha said, condescendingly. "Sacha return if not satisfied. _Mouse!"_ Sacha barked out something in another language, and a grey ferret shot out from under the couch, climbing up Sacha's back.

"Well, that was different," Mercutio said, from just behind Rory's left shoulder.

Rory jumped, as the door slammed behind Sacha. "I told you to stop doing that!"

Mercutio ignored him. "Do you think he makes the ferret watch?"

"That's _disgusting_."

"As long as the ferret isn't a participant, I don't mind." Mercutio frowned. "A bit rude though, letting your trained thief wander around a place of business."

Rory blinked. "You've lost me."

"He told it not to take anything, which seems a bit specific a command." Mercutio glanced at the piano, which was new.

"Wait, since when are you fluent in… whatever that language was?" Rory sighed. "I mean, not that it matters."

"I know a bit of everything opera is sung in, puppy." He strode to the piano. Since no one else appeared to be coming and it wasn't like he had anything better to do, Rory reluctantly followed. "Do you know this one?" Mercutio picked out an eight note melody with one finger.

Rory shook his head. "It sounds pretty, though."

"It is." Mercutio sat down. "Sung in the same language our icy haired friend appears to be comfortable with. This one, perhaps? It's more in my range."

He played a few bars of something that sounded a bit sadder. Rory shook his head again. "I only really remember learning pieces for romance languages. Though I think I heard a couple that were by composers from Rhineland."

"A typical affluent youth's musical education, then." Mercutio smiled, and begun to play in quite a different style, though it was still melancholy. "I don't expect you'd know this, but it's been on my mind all the same."

"Affluent? I-" Rory stammered, but Mercutio shook his head, and begun to sing.

Rory recognized the language, even if the piece was strange. _Take your hand away, I don't love you? Something… for others the arms… and the kisses, the sleeping head?_

"I understand it, a little." Rory watched Mercutio's hands move over the keys. "Is this really from an opera?"

Mercutio sang another phrase, which Rory thought might have been a response, since it began _don't talk to me._

 _Something about the night, something… intimate?_ Rory blushed, a little. _Don't give me your… something. It's… the perfume I love._

"It's not, by the way." Mercutio paused. "Would you like to learn it? It's for a soprano, but as you can see that doesn't stop me."

Rory blinked. "…Okay. Sure, why not?" It looked like the others were late anyway, and facing this direction he could probably see if anyone was coming and stop before they could make fun of him.

"It's about someone who wishes they weren't in love." Mercutio returned to the introduction, playing softly.

"But they say they don't love the person they're talking to," Rory objected.

"Read between the lines, puppy." Mercutio sang slowly and deliberately, _"Retire ta main, je ne t'aime pas. Car tu l'as voulu, tu n'es qu'un ami. Pour d'autres sont faits le creux de tes bras… et ton cher baiser, ta tête endormie."_

"'Cher baiser'," Rory repeated. "Dear kisses?"

"And this?" Mercutio's fingers hit the keys harder as he sang an unfamiliar phrase. _"Dis-moi tes amours… je ne t'aime pas… Quelle heure te fut la plus enivrant je ne t'aime pas!"_

 _Tell me your loves? Your affairs, maybe? What hour… something… maybe the most something?_ "It is a little specific," Rory said aloud.

"It is also possible that they aren't speaking to anyone, but trying to convince themselves," Mercutio's eyes were vague. "That's the beauty of cabaret songs. It can mean whatever you want it to mean, really. Try the second verse, the same melody as the opening. It goes ' _Je n'ai pas pleure, je n'ai pas souffert…'"_

Hesitantly, Rory did. _I didn't cry, I didn't suffer?_

"Good start. Now, _'Ce n'était qu'un rêve… et qu'une folie.'"_

"What's 'rev-uh'?"

"If we were speaking, we would say _rêve_ , which is dream, but in the song it gets an extra syllable. Don't worry about it. After that it goes _'Il me suffira… que tes yeux soient clairs… sans regret du soir, ni mélancolie.'_ Roughly it means 'it was only a dream and a folly. It will be enough that your eyes are clear, without regrets of the evening or melancholy.'"

Rory had almost gotten to the end of the verse when he heard footsteps on the landing.

"…And do you think I _like_ that pathetic little girl stopping by every day to flaunt her fat belly? Why should any of us care that she's breeding?" Lilith was saying.

"That's horrible!" Claret was just behind her, followed at a larger distance by Linneus. "She's a pregnant woman, not a cow! And I'm sure she's not doing it to bother _you,_ she just misses her husband!"

Mercutio closed the lid on the piano keys. "Another time, perhaps."

"I’ll set the table," Rory said, heading for the kitchen.

He couldn't help noticing that he hadn't seen Remy. Of course, she did like to be fashionably late.

But after everyone else had come in and sat down and been served, and table conversation was taking its usual course, Rory began to wonder if Remy was coming at all.

"Are we boring you, Rory?" Lilith drawled. "Or is the doorway much more fascinating than I recall?"

"I…" Rory colored. "I was just wondering if my sister knew lunch was ready. Did anyone tell her?"

Claret blinked. "I thought somebody must have. I mean, she misses a meal now and then but I just figured she didn't feel like it."

Linneus sighed. "Rory, perhaps you should check on Remy. I'll accompany you if you wish."

"No!" He'd said that a little too quickly, hadn't he? "That's okay. Really. I didn't want to disturb the meal, I just wondered. I can go myself."

It was possible, of course, that Remy was in her room. But she'd never spent a lot of time in her own room at home, and Rory suspected that wasn't about to change, for whatever reason. And she hadn't been walking that way when he'd seen her hours ago.

So he went to the courtyard.

In the shade of the trees, between the rose bushes and the chairs, Remy was curled up, sleeping in the grass.

_Is it hard for her, sleeping alone at night?_

Rory knelt in the grass, brushing a leaf off Remy's face. Her long red hair was spread across the grass, loose as always. Her skirt was riding up and part of her sleeve had slipped down to reveal her bare shoulder, suggesting she'd tossed and turned quite a bit before finding a position comfortable enough to sleep in. Even then, it probably wasn't all that comfortable. Remy's brow was furrowed, and she was chewing her lip in her sleep.

She looked like a forest nymph, too wild to be kept in these walls. Rory remembered the way Remy had kissed his forehead, and shivered. He put his hand on her shoulder and shook it, before his imagination got the better of him. "Remy. Remy, wake up!"

As an afterthought, he fixed her skirt.

Remy mumbled something incomprehensible and buried her face in the grass. Rory rolled his eyes. She'd always been difficult to wake. He'd be tempted to take a page out of her own book and talk directly into her ear, if he wasn't sure that she would instinctively headbutt him in a blind panic.

Rory carefully gripped her shoulder and moved her onto her back, absently wiping the dirt and drool off her cheek with his sleeve. He shook her again, hard. "Remy! Wake! Up!"

Her arm swung out to hit him, but Rory had been prepared for that, and dodged. "It's me! Your brother!"

"Rory?" Remy sounded groggy, but her eyes were open now. "Where are we?"

"The courtyard," Rory said patiently. "You must have taken a nap here. Lunch is ready, you know."

Remy groaned and covered her face. "I hate this place. Can't even fucking _breathe_ in there."

She looked so genuinely miserable that Rory found himself saying, against his better judgment, "You know, we can go outside with permission. You can come with me to market later, if you want."

Remy rolled onto her side, facing Rory. One of her hands moved to his thigh, and Rory tried not to blush. "Is that all you came here to offer me?"

"I didn't come here to offer anything," Rory insisted, trying not to think about the hand he didn't quite dare to move. "I wanted to make sure you didn't miss lunch! No one else cared enough to look!"

Remy sighed and sat up. "How generous of you."

Rory winced. "That wasn't what I... What I mean is, you should take care of yourself. You're not a guest here, you're a slave. If Atros finds you lying around sleeping there's no telling what he might do."

"I've been taking care of myself since before your balls dropped," Remy snapped, pulling up her dress. "I don't need tips from you, boy wonder."

"And yet here you are," Rory retorted. "If you think it's so insulting to have someone want to take care of you, what do you think _you're_ doing? Maybe I don't like you acting like I'm a victim in need of saving any more than you do!"

"So that's what you've convinced yourself you've been doing?" Remy said bitterly. "What a joke! You think you really would have been better off if you'd never seen me again? You think you were _protecting_ me that way?"

"I don't think that anymore." He wanted to touch her, to take her hand or cup her cheek, but he was afraid she would flinch. If he'd known Mother would blame Remy for his disappearance… but that wasn't what really made him regret it. And if Rory was honest with himself, it wasn't so much that he was surprised as that he had forced himself not to think about the consequences of his actions. "I never said I was any good at it, either. I only wanted to be."

Remy laughed, unpleasantly. "You don't seem to understand the difference between you and me, little brother. You've always played the victim much better than I ever could. Even if I followed all your generous advice, I still wouldn't be nice or respectable, not like you. I'd still be the girl you despise. And you'll never be as disgusting as me, no matter how pathetically you try."

Rory could have screamed for frustration. "I don't care how many times you do it or how much you pretend it doesn't matter, _that does not define you, Remy!_ And believe me, I don't want you to be me. _I_ don't even want to be me. I… I don't have to try to be disgusting, actually. It's easy. If it wasn't easy, I wouldn't be here. I told you it wasn't your fault I sold myself to the Teahouse, and I meant it. You're the one that doesn't understand!"

Remy stared at him, the contempt in her face melting away. "What don't I understand?"

"I'm not your little brother," Rory said harshly. "I'm not some child that you can protect from everything big and bad in the world that's hurt you. You can't shield me with your own suffering. Even if you took me away from all of this, even if I let you… I'd never be the innocent you wish you could have been. I'd hurt you again. I wouldn't mean to do it, I wouldn't want to, but it would happen the way it always happens."

"So it just _happens_ does it, no responsibility?"

"I am _trying_ to take responsibility!" Rory barely managed not to yell. He couldn't risk them being overheard. "We're in the middle of the garden, you idiot!"

Remy grabbed his wrist and leaned in before Rory could process what she was doing. "Just tell me one thing. If you're being honest _at all_ , which I'm not saying I believe, if you really don't give a fuck that everyone knows I'm the slut of the century…" Her voice was low and urgent, her breath hot on his face, her mouth… "Why did you act like I killed your puppy when you found that loser fucking me in the ass?"

Rory shuddered, not from disgust. "Because…" he swallowed. "I don't want you to feel like you have to do things like that. Because I don't want to see those men taking you like you exist for their pleasure."

Remy's mouth tightened. "If it's good enough for you, why shouldn't it be good enough for me?"

"It's _not_ good for me, okay?!" Rory ripped his wrist out of her hand, glaring at the dirt.

For a moment, there was silence.

"He hurt you?"

It wasn't the words that made Rory look up, it was the thick anguish in Remy's small voice, like she was barely holding herself together. Her face was just as raw, no trace of the hardened toughness he knew so well.

"Not like…" Rory hesitated. "Not like what happened to you. And it's not like I… I do get _something_ out of it." His face burned. "I'd just rather not."

Remy put her hand on his knee again. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Rory frowned, carefully taking her hand in his so she couldn't try anything. "For what? I told you, it's not your fault."

"I thought… I wanted to…" Remy almost knocked Rory over, so suddenly did she throw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling his neck. "You stupid idiot, you should have told me," she mumbled.

It was hard to be really exasperated with her when she was like this. "It's not like you gave me a chance. Or asked. Besides, I thought you knew." He stroked her back all the same. "We should really get back before they finish eating."

"What do you mean, you thought I knew?" Remy raised her head to glare at him. "How could I?"

Rory wished he didn't blush so easily. "Well, you _said_ that…"

"Are you talking about the anal?"

Rory winced.

Remy smacked his shoulder, not very hard. "We don't _actually_ have the same body, dumbass." Slowly, she began to smile. "You know…" Remy brushed her nose against his as she leaned in. "I happen to enjoy it."

_Oh god, oh fucking god._

Rory seized her shoulders and forcibly made a distance between them. "That's, um. That's nice, I guess." Belatedly, he squeezed her hands. "I don't need to know though. You're my sister."

Remy blinked, then scowled. "Yes, I am aware of that, Rory." She stood up and brushed her clothes off, glaring in no particular direction. "Go fuck yourself. If you can manage it."

Rory sighed and stood up as well. He'd managed to keep himself from having a… reaction, but now Remy was sulking again. Because he was trying to be a normal brother. Of course. "Let's just go eat."

As they approached the kitchen, Rory heard Claret saying, "…should have told me! I told you about Rhys!"

"Darling, I was _there_ when he picked you."

"I know, that's my point! When did you even get the chance to talk to her?"

Rory edged into the room silently, not wanting to break up the conversation. Remy sat down and crossed her arms moodily.

"Chance encounter. She appeared less than satisfied with our dear Axis, so we had a little conversation."

"Oh Rory, you're back! The food's great, you should have some, Remy! Mercutio, you better be nice to the princess."

Mercutio leaned back in his seat. "What if 'nice' isn't what she's looking for?"

Claret made a face. "Can't you ever just have a normal client?"

"Normal is dull," Mercutio said breezily.

"It's really not!" Claret insisted.

"At the very least, I think we'd all appreciate it if you never wore a corset again," Lilith said dryly.

"What kinds of stuff would she even ask for?" Claret wondered. "Uugh, it figures that a gorgeous princess shows up here and she's just as gross as-"

"No, she isn't."

Claret blinked, clearly surprised at the sudden change in Mercutio's attitude. "So you didn't…"

"What we did or didn't do is none of your business," Mercutio said, his tone deceptively light. "After all, we remember how well His Majesty took the news of her last liaison, do we not? A certain confidentiality might keep us from sustaining any more property damage. Not to speak of how she herself might be made to pay for it by her overprotective brother."

Rory knew a distraction tactic when he saw one. It seemed to work just fine on Claret and Lilith, but Rory didn't believe for a second that Mercutio was concerned about confidentiality. For whatever reason, Mercutio didn't want to gossip about Princess Evelyn.

"Right, well…" Claret laughed nervously and shoveled salad in her mouth.

"Rory, after you're finished eating, Argent will escort you to the marketplace," Linneus said.

"Oh! Thanks, that's great." Rory wasn't sure if there was anything else he should say, so he picked up the salt shaker.

"Are you gonna make Lord Reed another five course meal?" Claret grinned. "At least let me be the taste tester again!"

"Sure."

Claret clapped her hands and took another cob of corn. "You look kinda down, Remy. Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fucking hunky dory," Remy snarled.

Everyone stared at her in shock including Rory, who nearly inhaled his glass of water.

As Rory coughed and spat out water, he heard Remy saying, "What? Did I offend your delicate sensibilities? Or am I just not allowed to be in a bad mood here in the Happy Whorehouse?"

_Oh my god, for your own sake, shut up._

Mercutio gave Rory a hard slap on the back. "Allowed? Certainly, but we don't have to like it."

"Marvelous," Lilith said. "We've been graced with a miniature female Axis, with even fewer morals."

"And I'm sure everyone's grateful for your golden rays of bitchiness brightening up all our lives," Remy retorted.

"Okay, I think we should all calm down," Claret said tentatively.

Remy snorted derisively. "Make me!"

"Remy, back off, she didn't mean anything personal," Rory groaned.

"Traitor," Remy muttered, but left it at that.

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Claret was the first to get up from the table, somewhat unusually, and Lilith immediately followed, with Linneus drifting off after Rory assured him he didn't have to help with the dishes.

Rory expected Mercutio would leave next, but he remained, stubbornly. The worst part was the absolute certainty that if Mercutio knew that Rory would really prefer to be left alone with his sister that he'd dig his heels in and stay even longer.

"Fuck this," Remy said suddenly. Rory turned from the sink, somewhat anxiously, just in time to see her storm out of the kitchen.

He really wasn't sure if he was relieved or not.

"Are you planning on helping me or just sitting there?" Rory snapped at Mercutio.

"Actually, I have another appointment soon. But I was curious what you would do."

And on that enigmatic note, off he went.

Rory ended up being the only one to go to market with Argent. It was surprisingly lonely.

He knew, rationally, that Reed almost never ate anything he prepared and he should really be more conservative in his spending but what else was there to _do_ in the Teahouse? Rory definitely didn't want to just sit in his room all day. And it wasn't as if he was allowed to spend funds on books to read.

"Master Atros has a library," was all Argent had said when Rory mentioned the possibility of going to one. As if all books were interchangeable!

By the time he got back, Rory was in almost as bad a mood as Remy had been. He decided to go straight to the kitchen and start on dinner and tomorrow's meals rather than risk chewing anybody out over nothing.

Planning menus calmed Rory down. He'd bought a lot of flour and yeast initially thinking about pies but it occurred to him he could always bake bread and cover more bases that way. And, of course, quiche, which was practically an old standby at this point.

All of that was material for tomorrow, however. Rory did still have dinner to think of, preferably something not enormously taxing so making dough didn't feel like a chore. He'd already done salad, sort of. Lilith would complain about "rabbit food" if he served a second salad in the same day. Soup? Something he could serve cold. Gazpacho? Fine, but that wasn't a whole meal.

Rory started cutting up the tomatoes while he brainstormed. It was definitely too hot to make chili, and he'd already be using the large pot for the gazpacho. The skillet was free… so he could try frying something, though it was not exactly his specialty. The sea bass? All right, then.

He was just looking for the lemon when he realized with a start that Mercutio was watching him.

"Well, don't you look serious!"

Rory gritted his teeth. "Hello, Mercutio. I thought you had an appointment."

"I did! But appointments end, puppy. And I do have to while away the dull hours somehow."

"Can't you talk to Claret?"

"Remarkably, she is otherwise engaged at the present time."

Rory turned, surprised. "Claret has a client?"

Mercutio grinned. "Amazing what you miss when you venture out into the greater world. Not that it's terribly significant."

"I mean, it's probably significant to _her_ ," Rory pointed out. "She's got kind of a thing about not having many clients."

"I offered to share once, but she said no," Mercutio said blithely. "Picky, picky."

Rory rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine why."

"Neither can I! Where's her spirit of adventure, I ask you?"

The best way to get Mercutio to leave was generally to ignore him.

"Now you, on the other hand… awfully good with a knife, aren't you, puppy? Do let me know if you ever plan on taking that further."

Rory's face burned but he refused to take the bait. Admittedly, it helped that he wasn't entirely sure what Mercutio's suggestive tone was actually suggesting, but…

"Oooh, is that oil new? Do I _want_ to know how you used up the rest of the last bottle?"

 _It's olive oil, what's wrong with you?_ Rory wanted to say, but bit his tongue.

"Well, if you're going to be all work and no play, puppy, I have far more interesting things to do with my time. Like watching paint dry."

Once Rory finished the gazpacho he sort of regretted pushing Mercutio away. Mercutio didn't seem to think Rory was in love with Lord Reed, and most importantly, he didn't care. And Rory was getting a slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of seeing Lord Reed tomorrow.

 _It's not like he's going to actually apologize, even if he actually does understand what he did to offend me. He’s definitely not going to be nice. He'll probably think I managed to give_ myself _a black eye somehow and tell me how ugly it is._

_Well, I'm not going to apologize to him. Nothing's worth that indignity._

Reluctantly Rory left the kitchen. Maybe he could sleep a little? He probably needed to shower again.

Maybe he should write Mother.

But what on earth could he say? _Dear Mother, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I'm not dead. The bad news is… I'm a rich man's catamite._

_Oh god, I am not writing that letter._

He'd almost gotten to the top of the stairs when a somewhat disheveled Claret meandered onto the landing. "Mmm… that was nice."

Rory flushed.

"Oh hi, Rory! Back from the market already?"

"Uh, yeah." Not sure what to say, Rory blurted out the obvious. "So you had a client?"

Claret sighed happily. "Two great looking guys showed up and asked for girls! I'm so glad I stuck around."

"Wait, you had _two_ clients?"

"No, silly," Claret flapped her hands at him. "I went with the tall one and your sister went with his friend. He said I was pretty!"

Right, Rory was definitely going to take a cold shower. "Claret, do you really need someone to tell you you're pretty?"

Claret pouted. "Compliments are nice! Doesn't Lord Reed compliment you?"

"Actually…” Claret's face fell. "Don't look at me like that, you've met him. Are you really surprised?"

"But… he's paying so much money to have you all to himself. He must think you're doing _something_ right. Why wouldn't he tell you?"

Rory shrugged. "Don't ask me. Apparently I wouldn't know enough about masculinity to understand."

Claret gaped at him. "Who told you that? That's awful!"

"I don't really want to talk about it."

Claret put her hands on her hips. "Well, I think you're adorable, so there!"

Rory rubbed his face with his palm. "Adorable. Great. Not generally what a guy wants to hear. But thanks anyway, Claret. If I never said it, I do think you're pretty."

"I didn't mean it that way," Claret insisted. "I _like_ adorable. I'd go to bed with adorable!"

And then, to Rory's shock, she grabbed his head and planted a kiss right on his mouth. "See?"

But all Rory saw was Remy, standing behind Claret with a murderous look on her face.

Claret turned around. "Hi, Remy! I was just trying to cheer your brother up."

Remy smiled, unpleasantly. "Why stop there? I'm sure a handjob would perk him right up. Does Argent know you'd 'go to bed with adorable'?"

Claret went very pale. "It was only a kiss. I didn't even use tongue! Please don't say anything to Argent. Please."

"Not that it's any of your business," Rory said coldly, stepping in between Claret and Remy, "but how stupid do you think we are?" Claret was already at the bottom of the pecking order. Picking on her was like picking on a baby chick. "Lord Reed has been very clear that I'm for his use exclusively."

Remy rolled her eyes and stalked off.

Rory turned to squeeze Claret's hand. "She won't tell. I promise." He didn't actually know why saying anything to Argent was a threat but he could see it was what she needed to hear.

"O-okay." Claret smiled, hesitantly.

"I won’t let her.”

“Rory, you’re… kind of hurting my hand.”

Rory let go quickly. “Uh, sorry. See you later!”

Remy had gained some good distance, and by the time Rory caught up to her, several turns on, she was walking so fast he thought she might break into a run at any moment. He was closing in on her, but since he was already running, if she started he'd lose his advantage, and Rory was not about to let that happen.

 _"Hey!"_ Rory shouted. _"I'm not done talking to you!"_

Remy spun around, stopping just in time for Rory to catch her hand and shove her up against the wall. "You need to _shut your mouth_ , Remy!"

She stared at him in shock, her mouth slightly parted. Her mouth. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, ever so quickly.

Oh, he had _not_ thought this through.

Remy was breathing heavily, her eyes wide, hand limp and unresisting. Her look of fear was rapidly dissolving into an expression that was almost… pleading?

"You..." Rory panted. She was so close. Too close. He could almost feel her forehead against his.

He knew this corridor. The door right next to them was his old, tiny room. Better if no one saw them like this.

Rory dragged her over to the room shoved her inside and slammed the door behind them. "If you were watching us that long, you couldn't have missed that it was Claret doing the kissing, not me."

"When did I say I blamed you, brother mine?"

Remy lay back on the narrow bed, chest still rising and falling rapidly.

 _So it really was Claret she was targeting_.

Rory's rage-fueled instinct was to really let her have it, to tell her how pointless and cruel it was to go after Claret, to make sure she knew that he'd stop at nothing to make her life hell if she attacked an innocent bystander who had nothing to do with any of this.

But then he realized that was exactly what Remy was hoping he would do.

The more passionately he defended Claret, the more Remy would hate her.

The anger drained out of Rory, and he slunk over to the footstool that was what passed for a chair. "Fine. Do whatever you want, then. It's got nothing to do with me."

Sure enough, Remy's smirk vanished and she sat up.

"How was your client?" Rory asked, before she could get a dig in.

Remy snorted. "He called me 'sweetheart.'"

"What's wrong with that?"

She made a face. "Yeah, try just about everyone you meet calling you sweetheart, pet, sugar, baby doll, dearie, love, whatever. Or don't. Maybe it's different if you're a guy. The ones that use the cute little nicknames are always the fastest to turn around and call you a bitch when you're not as sweet as they thought you were."

Out of everyone, the person Rory had least expected to reaffirm his masculinity (however inadvertently) was his twin sister. Weirdly, it made him feel better. "So you're saying you'd rather be called a bitch from the start?"

That actually got an amused little huff. "More or less. It's honest, anyway."

"I don't believe kindness is always a lie," Rory said, though he wondered if he was trying to convince himself as well as Remy. "Gilder was nice to me this morning and he didn't have to be."

"I'm not talking about people being _kind_ ," Remy snapped. "I'm talking about men who get all familiar when they don't even know you because they like the way you look. Affection from strangers isn't affection at all, it's… it's…"

"Presumptuous?" Rory offered.

"Yeah, sure, that." Remy flopped down on the bed again and rolled onto her side.

Almost without thinking, Rory got up and went to the bed. _I'm not a stranger, at least_. He hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder. "Sorry. It is different for me."

To his relief, Remy didn't flinch. She glanced over her shoulder at him, expression unreadable. "Of course it is, stupid. People are nice to you because you're nice. Especially girls like _her_ who obviously want to ride your dick."

Rory rolled his eyes and brushed hair off Remy's face. "They're really not. Besides, Claret thinks I'm in love with Lord Reed. She knew there was no way I'd kiss her back."

She shrugged. "She still did it. Because she could." Remy turned her head away from him and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'bitch.'

_She's actually really upset._

Rory exhaled and got onto the bed to lie beside her. It was a bit cramped, but worth it to feel Remy relax as he wrapped his arm around her and buried his nose in her hair.

They lay there for a long while.

"Why would Argent care if Claret kissed me?"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out that they're fucking," Remy said tartly.

"Huh." Rory absently filed that away for future reference.

She shifted under his arm. Rory had just enough time to wonder if maybe he should move his arm and let her go before Remy turned around to face him, wrapping _her_ arm around him.

Rory blushed and hated himself for it.

Remy's nose brushed against his, her warm breath teasing his hot cheeks. Her eyes were almost closed, and yet he still couldn't look away.

Rory had never been so aware of the feeling in his own mouth.

He thought, when she leaned in, that she would kiss him, but instead her nose only nuzzled his, her fingers curling against his back.

_If I… if I kissed her… it doesn't have to mean I'm… brothers kiss their sisters, right? I can just kiss her briefly, like Claret did, and it wouldn't… no, it would. Boundaries. I need to set boundaries. This is fine, but if it gets any more intense, then it's… I…_

Abruptly, Remy sat up, pushing his arm away. "Stop looking at me like that."

Rory froze, sick with guilt. "L-like what?"

Her shoulders hunched. "Like I'm some kind of monster you're scared of. I fucking get it, okay? I'm your sister."

"It's not your fault," Rory said, weakly. _And it's not you I'm scared of._

"Bullshit. You told me you had to go because of what you wanted to do, and I told you I wanted the same thing, and… and now you want to act like none of it ever happened. Don't pretend like you don't blame me for anything, because I know you do. You said you hated me and it was true."

What could he say?

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Remy stood and Rory sat up, not wanting her to go but afraid that if she did he'd crumble completely and tell her that there'd never been anyone else in the world for him but her.

"When I said it, I meant it," Rory blurted out. Remy had her hand on the doorknob, but she paused. "I know you know it's not as easy as just one thing or the other. Can you really say you never hated _me_ or blamed me for anything?"

Remy made a frustrated sound somewhere between a growl and a scream. "That's not the _point_ you spectacular bastard! I hate you because you do things like _this!"_ She threw the door open and stormed out before Rory could manage a word.

Rory fell back on the bed and covered his face with his hands.

_I need a shower.  
_

His first few nights in the city, Rory had gone to restaurants and tried to figure out what was in the food he ate. Cook always said that was how the professionals did it. The last time he'd tried searing fish fillet, it had been an attempt at recreating someone else's dish.

Reed hadn't even bothered tasting the sauce underneath.

Well, Rory thought it turned out all right. And even if none of his Teahouse taste testers would comment on the crisped skin or try to guess the herbs in his cream sauce (thyme and saffron, because if he was only able to spend money on food he might as well splurge on saffron), at least they'd eat it.

His wet hair turned out to sort of be an asset, in that it made standing over a hot stove marginally less unpleasant. Rory made a mental note to take more cold showers before cooking.

Shockingly, Lilith was the first to arrive, as Rory was working out the presentation. Flummoxed, he grabbed the bread basket and set it down on the table without a word. _Is she expecting to talk to me?_

"Eeeeeew! Mercutio, why would you even _say_ that?"

Rory breathed a little sigh of relief, and dropped a little sprig of parsley on each bowl. By the time he'd turned around, carrying the bowls, Claret and Mercutio were finding their seats, as was Remy, who seemed to have slipped into the kitchen behind them.

"Pretty!" Claret said approvingly as Rory placed gazpacho in front of her. "Mercutio, why don't you have a nice hobby like this?"

"When you're as busy as I am, who has time for hobbies?"

Remy rolled her eyes but started shoveling gazpacho into her mouth the moment Rory's hand left her bowl.

"Hey, Lilith, are you actually eating dinner with us? What's the special occasion?"

"I was bored," Lilith growled.

Rory had his suspicions, which seemed confirmed by the fact that Linneus never showed up.

Dinner was otherwise uneventful.

Remy didn't say a single word the whole time, and left the moment it was clear there wasn't going to be any more food. Claret glanced after her, but made no comment.

Lilith rose next, even though there was still a generous helping of sea bass on her plate. "Is there anything else I can get you?" Rory offered, tentatively.

"Please, unlike some people around here, I care about my weight." With that, Lilith swept off.

"And yet she sneers when I wear a corset," Mercutio remarked.

"That's because you're a guy," Claret informed him.

"I _am?!"_ Mercutio clapped his hands over his mouth in sarcastic shock. "My world is crumbling before my eyes!"

Claret shook her head. "Sometimes I just don't get you, Mercutio."

"Only sometimes?"

Claret sighed. "Oh, whatever. I should probably bring dinner up to Atros, since Linneus isn't here."

Rory gestured to the tray he set aside habitually. "No problem."

"Thanks, Rory. Have a good night, guys."

It was so unusual for Mercutio to be quiet for more than five minutes that Rory actually forgot he wasn't alone while he was washing the dishes. At least, up until Mercutio said, "You've certainly fooled her, but contrary to popular belief, I don't actually swallow everything."

Rory stiffened. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I can't help but notice you've done a remarkably good job of acting as though this morning never happened. Good enough, in fact, to make me wonder what else you're hiding."

He had to play this carefully. "What did you think I was going to do, exactly? Cover my face with shame every time you entered the room?"

"No, puppy, but it's rather unusual to see you blush and stammer so little in the presence of someone you've-"

"Yes, okay, fine, got it," Rory ground out. If he was too obviously relieved that was all Mercutio seemed to have on him, it would only increase suspicion, so safer to stay on the defensive. "I don't blush _that_ much. Not around people I don't actually like."

Mercutio laughed, and Rory spun around, angry. "Oh no, darling, you've blushed because of me before. What's strange is that you stopped."

 _Fuck._ "I don't see how it matters to you."

"Oh, it doesn't, really. Only I begin to wonder, if you aren't Rory Dubois, sheltered boy virgin with an innocent heart of gold, who are you, exactly?"

Rory's nails dug into his palm. "I _am_ Rory Dubois, whether you believe it or not. And I never told anyone I had an innocent heart of gold." He skipped over 'sheltered boy virgin' purposefully. Might as well lay the groundwork for a partial confession to throw Mercutio off the real secret.

Mercutio raised his eyebrows. "You didn't have to. You played the ingenue to the hilt, as skillfully as you played your role with me this morning. I've seen some, ah, _natural talents_ in my time, but…"

Rory _did_ blush then. "Shut up. I should have just left you there."

"Don't get me wrong, virgins can be quite enthusiastic. I should know, I certainly was. But it always did strike me as odd that one would sell one's-"

"I said _shut up,"_ Rory hissed. "I was telling the truth! Whether you believe it or not!" He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. _The trick is to look like you've lost control, not to actually lose it_. "Who gets to decide whether somebody's a virgin or not, anyway? I'm not now, that's for sure."

 _Eyes down, play up the self-loathing. At least that comes easy._ He blinked a few times, hoping Mercutio wouldn't notice he wasn't actually tearing up.

"You and your sister are quite the pair."

Blood pounded in Rory's ears. Mercutio was too close to his real secret, _far_ too close. If he spoke too soon...

"What a childhood you must have had. Try to understand, puppy, when someone like me sees someone who has just signed their rights away for this kind of work react the way you do to even the slightest hint of fun, the immediate assumption is going to be either that you're playing hard to get or that you're only ashamed of your own enthusiasm. When you've seen as many people as I have voluntarily solicit discomfort and fear, it becomes rather difficult to identify the genuine article in a complete stranger who, as far as one can see, has no immediate reason to be distressed."

Rory frowned, hoping he didn't look as baffled as he felt. "Is this your way of apologizing for creeping up on me all the time?"

Mercutio fluttered one hand. "I'm getting to it! As I was saying, it only really sunk in that your sexual dysfunction might-"

"My sexual _what?!"_ Rory interrupted, ears burning.

"-might be more complex than youthful embarrassment when I saw the way you immediately looked at the door after my proposition. As though you expected it to have vanished into thin air. You were rather alarmingly surprised that I wanted to make sure you were actually interested."

Rory's stomach dropped. "Oh." He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not.

Mercutio met his eyes. "Puppy, no one can help you if you don't tell them what's wrong. You're not going to change your past by repeating everything you regret. And whatever happened to you isn't your sister's fault."

_Oh my god._

_He thinks I'm Remy._

He could have laughed out loud, bitterly. Mercutio had them in exact reverse, so close to the truth and yet so utterly, impossibly wrong. _You'd never want to help me if you knew how little excuse I had for what I did._ "I'm not asking for help. Not now, anyway. I'm just asking to be left alone. My sister's got nothing to do with it. Don't worry, I'm not planning on making any more scenes."

Mercutio held up his hands. "None of my business, really. We can drop the subject now, if you'd like."

"Okay, let's drop it." Rory turned back to the dishes.

He only realized Mercutio had gone when he heard him practicing scales on the piano. And then Rory felt guilty for never having asked where and when Mercutio received his musical education. _He probably has his own regrets and things he'd rather not talk about.  
_

When Rory left the kitchen, Mercutio smiled at him as though he'd never accused Rory of being deceitful. _It takes one to know one, I guess._

"That's nice," Rory offered, after listening to him play for a bit. "Actually, it sounds kind of familiar. What's it from?"

"An irreverent operetta I composed some time ago about the pleasures of hell."

Rory's jaw dropped. Now the tempo was picking up he _definitely_ knew this song. "Wait, _you wrote this?_ This is famous! Everyone was talking about how the women kicked up their legs and showed their…" He flushed.

Mercutio grinned. "Yes, they were so horrified by the _Galop Infernal_ that they kept coming back to tell us how awful it was. A roaring success, in other words. I can't take credit for the dance, but I did write the music."

Rory stared at him. "But then you were… you were _somebody_. People knew who you were. Why would you ever come here if you had that?"

"It wasn't my choice, believe me, puppy." Mercutio paused to pull back his collar and lift his hair with one hand, exposing the back of his neck. "As you can see, I've been a commodity all my life."

Rory looked, and tried not to wince. The brand on the back of Mercutio's neck was small but distinct, the perfect size for a very young child.

"My first memory," Mercutio said lightly. "I've had happier since."

"I'm sorry," Rory said, because he was.

Mercutio changed songs, to something staccato and quick, but not exactly happy sounding. "Don't weep too terribly at my sad story, puppy. What I do, I always do wholeheartedly!"

"Like the princess?"

Mercutio's hands paused. "Yes. Like the princess." When he resumed, it was soft, _pianissimo,_ the sound almost tender.

"I've heard you going on about all your clients, whether I wanted to hear it or not," Rory said pointedly. "Why was it suddenly important to you not to hear Claret call this one gross?"

"Because she doesn't deserve that." Mercutio exhaled slowly, expression unusually serious. "Because she came to me to act on her unexplored desires in a way that felt safe and free of consequences, and she trusted me with her vulnerability. Because it was beautiful. And I'd like it to stay that way."

Maybe it was the music, but Rory felt almost too sad to speak. He'd never seen Mercutio like this, almost wistful over a client. He couldn't even find it in himself to be envious anymore, not when there was so little chance that the princess felt the same way about Mercutio. She'd gotten what she'd paid for, after all. She probably didn't even think of Mercutio as a person with feelings, hopes and dreams.

Rory knew all too well how horrible it was to be literally naked in front of someone and have them not see you at all.

"What was the next verse of the song you were going to teach me earlier?"

Mercutio paused. "Which song?"

_"Je ne t'aime pas?"_

"Your accent is dreadful," Mercutio informed him. Still, he began to play.

Later, Rory made the dough for tomorrow, putting it high up to rise overnight. He could have come up with other things to do, really, but if Lord Reed really was coming, he'd better go to bed early rather than risk looking wrung out by the time the man arrived.

Going to bed early of course didn't actually mean sleeping early most of the time, but Rory figured it was always worth something to lie in bed at least.

_Reed's not going to expect that I've used his present, right? I mean, if he asks I can always lie, but if he wants to see it… well, he's never noticed I gave the first one to Mercutio. He won't._

_I wonder if Remy's sleeping._

_She always managed to sleep so easily. I wish I knew how._

Rory rolled onto his back. _This time tomorrow, I'll… don't think about that._

_It's fine. Everything's going to be fine._

_Remy…_

When he closed his eyes, he saw her tongue, slowly trailing along her lips.

Rory could still smell her hair.

_I never should have kissed her again._

Whether Rory managed to sleep or not, he clambered out of bed once the light from the windows got in his eyes. He almost went to shower, but remembered in time that he had dough to work with and baking to do, and he wasn't entirely certain Lord Reed wouldn't take offense at a little flour on his arms.

Garlic knots, maybe. Though that would mean a lot of garlic, and then he might not have enough for pesto, which he'd been thinking about. And since they didn't even qualify as an appetizer, it would mean a lot of effort for not much payoff.

Quiche. Not that _Rory_ would be eating any, at least not for the foreseeable future (gross gross gross but practical thought) but he'd done it before and it was easy to make it look nice and filling.

Cookies. Pignoli cookies were Veronese, Reed might appreciate that. Maybe he could come up with at least one more appetizer with some Veronese flavor, but not like, something else so traditional that he was likely to get it wrong or at least not as right as an actual Veronese lord was used to eating, because it wasn't that he really wanted to _compete_ with Veronese cooks he just wanted to stand out a little.

Well, stand out more than a little. In a good way.

Rory rifled through what he had, trying not to panic as he came across more than a few things that had spoiled. Out of this, what else could he make? He could have sworn he had a plan yesterday, but he hadn't written it down and with Remy being Remy and everything else he'd completely forgotten.

Pasta? Oh God, he could not make pasta from scratch, and certainly not in about five or six hours. _Never try a recipe for the first time when you're having guests, as Cook said. I can try and make the quiche sort of pesto tasting, but I've still got some tomatoes, and…  
_

And then, it hit him. _Eggplant parmesan!_

Rory nearly hurled the eggplants into the air with relief.

It was a lot of food, a lot of work, and a lot of heat in the kitchen, but it gave Rory something immediate to focus his attention on, and so he threw himself into his cooking and baking with gusto. What was more, it was early enough that nobody tried to get in his way, apart from one of the maids who scowled at him before leaving.

_What's her problem? It's not like she's not going to end up eating some of this. Is she a friend of Remy's or something?_

_Oh, who am I kidding, Remy never has girl friends. I wish she did, it might give her some perspective._

"Is all of that for breakfast?" Claret yawned, at half past nine.

Breakfast. He'd almost forgotten breakfast!

"Uh, some of it?" Rory cast his mind around. What was fast and easy? "You want anything in particular in your omelet?"

"Bacon and cheese!"

"What kind of cheese?"

Claret made a face. "I don't know, _cheese_ cheese. Not the super smelly kind."

"Mild cheddar," Rory translated. "Tell the others if they show up soon enough they can choose too, otherwise I'm just putting in spinach."

"Gorgonzola," Mercutio said, right in Rory's left ear.

 _"Gah!"_ Rory nearly dropped the tomatoes he was holding. Mercutio was wearing hair curlers and what appeared to be a glittering onesie. "What is it with you and sneaking up on people? Gorgonzola and what else?"

Mercutio shrugged. "Surprise me. But no spinach."

"Don't you get hot in that?" Claret asked him.

"I might if I kept it on very long. Do those ribbons really stay in your hair while you sleep?"

"I put them in because they look cute! Are you seriously telling me you sleep naked?"

"What, you've never tried it?"

Rory tuned out their conversation and started on the omelets. Gorgonzola was strong, so he'd need something equally strong to keep it from taking over the flavor. Chives, maybe. Or rosemary? No, those two tastes would just end up fighting each other. Oregano? If it was just a pinch, because he might need that for Reed's quiche. Ugh, chives it was.

"Good morning, Linneus! Rory wants to know what you want in your omelet! Otherwise he'll put spinach in."

"That sounds fine."

Just when Rory was beginning to wonder if he'd have to tell somebody to get Remy, Mercutio sang out "And we have an order a for cheese, tomato and basil omelet, quote 'no experimental shit' end quote!"

"The salty soft cheese that crumbles," Remy muttered. "Foeda or whatever it's called."

"Feta," Rory supplied, without thinking. Trust his sister to find the one ingredient he was worried about not having enough of and request it. With anyone else, he would have said it wasn't possible and tried to come to some compromise, but he already felt bad enough about the way things had been going with Remy and he didn't want to get pulled into another petty fight. How big of a difference could one tomato make, anyway? "Coming up as soon as I finish Linneus'."

Omelets were no problem, especially when most of the recipients seemed to have no particular objection to their eggs getting a little burnt. Most of Rory’s attention went into Remy’s omelet, since she always hated even the slightest trace of brown.

"This is really really good!" Claret enthused. "How is everything you make so good?"

"It's not," Remy muttered.

"Well, if you don't want it, I'll eat it," Claret returned.

Remy rolled her eyes. "I wasn't giving you my omelet. I like it."

"Thank you," Rory said dryly.

"I, for one, am I always happy to experiment with you, puppy," Mercutio leered.

Rory covered his face to hide his deep blush. "Mercutio, it's _food_."

"Leave Rory alone," Linneus said mildly. "Thank you for making breakfast, by the way."

Once they'd finished, Linneus and Claret helped with the dishes while Mercutio went off with Remy. Rory really hoped it was a coincidence and he wasn't actually… no, he didn't hope anything because it wasn't really his business. Not at all his business. Remy could sleep with whoever she wanted. Absolutely nothing to do with him at all...

"Rory, you've been scrubbing that plate for two minutes," Claret said.

"What? Oh, sorry, I wasn't thinking." Rory quickly put the plate down and turned to get another, but what he saw was Remy standing by the kitchen door, watching him.

Their eyes met for a moment, and then she turned and walked out again.

Rory was glad, and then he felt guilty that he was glad.

"Looks like we're finished," Linneus said, startling Rory into paying attention. "I'll see you both later."

"Linneus has another appointment," Claret said brightly, stating the obvious.

"I have to make more food," Rory said miserably.

"Another feast for Lord Reed?" Claret laughed. "You really don't have to, you know. That's not the reason he keeps coming back."

Rory bit his lip. He wasn't really ready to think about the reason Reed kept coming back. "I know that, it's just… it's something to do." _Something I'm much better at, I'm sure. Something that's about me, Rory, not the person he thinks he bought._

_The prize he thinks he bought._

"Aww, you're all agitated! Don't worry, you won't have to wait much longer."

Rory forced a smile. _That's exactly what I'm worried about._

"It must be exciting, to have somebody like him to look forward to," Claret continued, oblivious to Rory's anguish. "Hey, you never told me how good he was!"

 _Oh, God._ Rory rubbed his hot face with his hand. "I… I'm not sure if that's really…"

"But you actually have done the-"

"Yes, okay, yes!" Rory said quickly.

"So then, you said you'd answer general questions!" Claret chirped. "Like… how big is he?"

Rory closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. "Big enough."

"Oooh! Is he a good kisser?"

"I guess?" _Not really, no._

"Oh yeah, I guess you wouldn't have much to compare him to. Did it hurt the first time?"

That surprised Rory enough to look at her. "Hurt? I mean, no more than it's supposed to, I think."

Claret laughed, a little uncomfortably. "You're lucky then. I mean, it's not the same, obviously, but my first time hurt a lot."

Rory blinked. "Wait, did someone ask you to… um…”

"What? Eeew, no!" Claret made a disgusted face, and Rory thought about the matter of fact way Remy had said _girls shit too._ "I'd never do _that_. I was talking about first time in my vagina."

"Oh." He wondered if he was revolting in Claret's eyes too, or if she'd never really processed that he didn't have a vagina. "I'm sorry. But you did… want it, right?"

"Oh yeah!" Claret beamed. "Just the guy I was with wasn't really good, and I was nervous, and you know, it's just what happens with girls. We bleed a lot the first time and then it gets better. Though… I guess you don't know. But hey, how is it you stayed a virgin and your sister didn't? Normally it's the other way around."

Rory shrugged. "We've never been very good at normal."

"That's not an answer!" Claret pouted. "I mean, you were right before, I don't know Remy that well. I can sort of see how you might have been so nervous about asking anybody out that you never got around to doing it, or maybe you went to a super religious school and only got away with kissing, but I don't even get why people would be attracted to her. I mean, Axis wants to have sex with everybody and everything, so _he_ makes sense, but-"

"Wait, wait," Rory interrupted. He was so surprised he'd gone right around to being confused. "You don't think Remy's attractive?"

"Well, no. Especially not now I've had to spend time with her. She's like a crazy person. A _mean_ one." Seeing Rory's expression, Claret hastily amended, "Sorry. I know she's your sister and everything, but it's true. If I had to pick one of you, first time or no first time, I'd definitely pick you."

Rory laughed. He couldn't help it. "That's the first time anyone's ever said that."

"Well, I bet Reed thinks so!"

Rory's stomach plummeted. "Well… yeah, but he doesn't count. He's not attracted to women."

"But you're from Ivore, aren't you?" Claret asked. "You must have known some other gay guys growing up."

 _Other?_ "Yeah, I guess so. It didn't really come up." Rory paused. "Though, actually, now that you mention it, there was one. I don't know if he was necessarily _gay_ but… there was one guy who might have liked me."

He hadn't thought about Ambrose in a long time. It seemed like an entirely different lifetime.

Rory wondered how different things might have been, if he'd taken Ambrose up on his proposition. He might have never kissed Remy, never known for sure if she felt the way he felt. Ambrose hadn't been bad looking, and he'd seemed nice at the ball. If Rory had run off with Ambrose before things had gotten anywhere with Remy, maybe Remy wouldn't have gone after him, maybe she would have found someone nice and respectful and _good_. Someone who wasn't him.

The horrible thing was, Rory still felt jealous of the hypothetical person Remy could have fallen in love with.

"You should have asked him out!" Claret exclaimed. "Though I guess then you wouldn't have met Lord Reed, since he came because he heard you were a virgin. So it all worked out for the best!"

"Well, I hope so," Rory said hesitantly. _Because it's not like I can go back and change the past._

The cookies were done, and the eggplant was all ready to be baked. He just had to make the tomato sauce and then figure out the timing so he could put the quiche and the eggplant parmesan in the oven and have them still hot when Lord Reed arrived.

Sauces were not Rory's favorite thing to make, but tomato sauce was a lot less labor intensive than, say, hollandaise sauce, so there was that at least. Puereeing the tomatoes and onions was frustrating and somewhat anxiety provoking since he had a whole less tomato than he'd thought he'd been working with, but it looked pretty good at least, and once he started seasoning to taste Rory started to feel downright confident.

Rory put the pastry shell for the quiche in the oven to cook for ten minutes while he let the tomato sauce simmer. Baking the rest of the quiche generally took about 35 minutes, and he thought that seemed a reasonable estimate for the eggplant parmesan as well, but the trouble was it would cool off just as quickly. Maybe once he'd finished one, he could put the other back in the oven and close the door to keep it warm a little longer? But then he'd have to get them both up to his room before Lord Reed got there. Ugh, what had he been thinking, making two dishes that needed to be served hot?

Rory could put them in at the same time but then they might start to taste like each other, and what if something spilled?

"This is stupid," Rory muttered. It wasn't like Lord Reed was going to have more than one bite anyway. Who cared if they weren't exactly piping hot?

Quiche first, then eggplant. It would be easier to cover the quiche and salvage some warmth than to deal with the eggplant parmesan. Though really, he could also cover that.

"I'm so _fucking_ stupid," Rory groaned, stirring the sauce briefly in between looking for dishes to use as covers. He'd gotten so caught up in the idea of presentation that he'd clean forgotten basic facts.

Time to remove the sauce from the heat and take out the shell of the quiche. Might as well get the pignoli cookies out of the way, anyway. Rory arranged them in a basket and covered them with a napkin before heading out of the kitchen.

He was just carrying the cookies up to his room when he heard voices in the hallway.

"…know I could. I've got the entire treasury of Ivore at my disposal, if I want to buy a slave's freedom no price is too high."

"And then what?" It was, Rory thought, Mercutio's voice. Was that the princess with him?

She hesitated. "Then you'd be free. You could do anything you wanted. You could be with people because you chose to be."

"And if I didn't choose to be with you, my savior, what then? Would you still consider it money well spent?"

The princess's beautiful face looked shocked. "Yes," she said, after a moment. "Yes, I would. Mercutio, if I wanted to buy a lover I would have already done it."

"Respectfully, your majesty, I believe you already have."

The princess' hand flew up and for a moment Rory thought she would slap Mercutio but she paused, and lowered her hand. "I've told you not to call me that. And you know perfectly well what I mean. I don't want you to feel you owe anyone anything, least of all me. If anything, I'm indebted to _you…"_

Rory walked away, before he got angry enough to do or say something he'd regret. What was _wrong_ with Mercutio? Why wasn't he leaping at the chance to be freed? Who cared if it was for the wrong reasons or out of love for somebody who didn't exist? It was _freedom_. And who cared if Princess Evelyn liked weird sex things like Mercutio, _he'd_ had sex with Mercutio (well, sort of) and it hadn't been that bad, definitely better than-

_Okay, forget it. That's not an option. Stop thinking about what you don't have and think about what you do._

What did he have? An appointment with Lord Reed. In… two hours now.

Rory hastily put the cookies on a side table in his room and ran downstairs to put in the quiche. He wasn't making good enough time to dawdle.

Mix together the filling, pour it in the shell, smooth it over, okay good enough, oven was already preheated from the shell, put it in…

"Practicing for Lord Bunbury?"

Rory shot upright, his face burning, and slammed the oven door. "Don't you have anything better to do, Remy?"

"No one at the moment, no." Remy leaned against the wall, one hand playing with her long red hair. He was sure she knew exactly how good she looked.

"Well, go find someone else." Rory glanced at the clock. Thirty five minutes and then time to put in the eggplant. "I'm busy."

Remy scowled. "You're always busy. You're always making up things to do so you don't have to talk to me. Some brother you are!"

Rory ground his teeth and exhaled, slowly. "Okay, look, I'm sorry. But do we really have to do this now?"

Remy glared at him for a long time. Then, finally, "Fine. Have it your fucking way, whatever the hell that is."

He couldn't afford to feel bad for chasing her off. Remy was not supposed to be his priority. His priority was eagerly welcoming his long absent… Lord Reed.

_Just thinking of him as my lover sounds wrong somehow, even though it's literally the truth. It feels more like I'm his than he's mine. Which is probably just what he wants._

The quiche would be ready to take out of the oven in twenty eight minutes and then… shower! He'd almost forgotten to take a shower! Oh god, he had to take a shower as soon as possible!

Rory didn't quite trust himself to have his timing done that well, so he decided to run upstairs and make sure everything else was decent enough and ready for his shower, and then prepare the eggplant parmesan in advance so he could put it in the moment he took the quiche out and then cover the quiche and take it upstairs and _then_ take his shower and then go back down and get the eggplant parmesan.

There were a couple of maids in his room when he got there, tidying up, which was probably a good thing although one of them glared at Rory. "Um, sorry… thank you, I mean. Please don't touch the basket, it's for Lord Reed. Er… is my bathrobe clean?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, good. Thank you. Uh, bye."

He wasn't really sure what he'd done to piss off at least one maid, but it really wasn't worth worrying about now unless they deliberately sabotaged him or something… but that would be stupid, Atros would fire them for disturbing a client. Rory was the highest paid courtesan at the Teahouse right now, after all.

Why wasn't the quiche done yet? Rory needed to take that shower before he forgot again.

_Ugh, it's so hot in here. And is that a cankersore I'm starting to feel? Great, just great._

Five… four… three… two… close enough, grab some oven mitts and take it out.

Eggplant parmesan safely in the oven, Rory covered the quiche and carefully carried it up to his room. The maids had left, and the cookies looked intact. Rory set down the quiche, exhaled, and went to take his shower.

The hot water came as a relief, a physical sensation to focus on and clear his mind, and separate whatever was to follow from Mercutio and the princess and Remy.

Especially Remy.

There was a time when Rory might have thought of trying a bath, to submerge himself in water and relax his muscles, but the memory of the last time he'd sat in this tub (or rather, sat and then knelt awkwardly not quite straddling Reed's thighs) was still too strong.

 _His hair was all over the tub afterwards,_ Rory thought, scrubbing his face just in case any stray acne was developing. _At least when Remy used to use my shower she'd take her hair out of the drain. Those poor maids. I hope they know none of it was from below the neck._

Actually, that reminded him to grab a razor. Not that there was really much to take care of, but it had been made very clear to Rory that the Teahouse had exacting specifications regarding body hair. Whether that was actually a legal standard or Atros' personal preference Rory had never quite dared to ask. At least Reed had never complained about _that_.

Rory caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror by the bathroom as he was drying off, and started at his own bruised eye. It somehow looked worse even though he felt so little pain he'd nearly forgotten his face was still marked up.

No time for a closer inspection right now, he needed to get some clothes on, get downstairs and shut the oven off within fifteen minutes.

The eggplant parmesan smelled pretty great for a recipe he'd had to adjust a little, but Rory was more concerned about covering it neatly and transporting it upstairs without incident.

Forty five minutes left, assuming Reed was on time.

Rory scrutinized his reflection. He'd gone with navy pants, hoping it wouldn't be obvious that they were wrinkled, but there wasn't really any helping his shirt. At least it probably wouldn't be staying on that long.

His fingernails looked pretty clean, which was good. The black eye made his face look sort of asymmetrical and awful, but there wasn't a lot he could do about that without losing pity points.

_What's more pathetic, the person he thinks I am or the person I really am, standing here calculating how woebegone and pitiful I can be?_

Rory went over to one of the more cushioned chairs and sat down gingerly. _Huh, this is actually pretty firm and comfortable. I guess it doesn't get much use._

He tried not to look at the bed, which the chair was angled towards.

The first time, they’d been in Lilith’s room. Lord Reed had sat on a couch directly facing the bed and watched Rory. Just remembering it made Rory cringe.

There had to be some other way to pass the time.

Well, he didn't have any new books to read, but there were always the old ones, and at least reading would give him something else to think about.

Rory glanced wistfully at the food he'd prepared. It felt like forever since the light breakfast he'd given himself, and the smell of the quiche and the eggplant parmesan was still fresh in his memory. He wanted so badly to have just one bite… but then he'd be even hungrier, and it'd spoil the look. Besides, there was good reason for him to keep off heavy foods for the time being.

He forced himself to look away and went for a glass of water.

It was hard to concentrate, even on the poetry. Rory had no idea what kind of a mood Reed would be in, after all, or if he was just going to go back to the usual kind of appointment and pretend Rory had never screamed at him or kicked him out.

(Fuck it, he could eat one pignoli cookie. That was light, right?)

Rory knew it was in his best interest to act like he was repentant, but the idea sickened him. He had to have _some_ dignity, after all.

Should he seem eager? Sheepish? Not angry or cold. But couldn't he find some middle ground between being a complete doormat and a grumpy teenager?

By the time he heard the knock, Rory was ready.

"Come in!" he called, which he had never done before. He'd angled the chair so the good side of his face all that was visible from the doorway, so all he had to do was sit in it and pretend to be lost in his reading.

Rory heard rather than saw the door opening, as his eyes were firmly trained on the book. Slowly he glanced up, smiling, and turned to beam at Reed, showing him the black eye. "I almost forgot to uncover the food! It's eggplant parmesan and-"

"Your face." No hint of emotion in Reed's expression. About the only thing that was different from how Rory remembered was Reed's hair, which had been cut short. _I'm sure the maids are glad about that._

"Huh? Oh!" Rory threw up his hand as though he'd just remembered, dropping his book on the ground. "Sorry, you weren't supposed to see that. I can cover it with makeup, it's no big deal." He got up and went to the food.

"Have you concealed injuries like this before?"

Rory blinked. "No? It was just a misunder… an accident."

He wasn't expecting the hand that landed on his shoulder, or the hand that gripped the good side of his jaw and jerked his head up for Reed's intent perusal.

"Do you take me for a fool?"

Rory tried not to squirm. "No…"

"This was no accident, you were clearly assaulted. Did he touch you anywhere besides your face?"

"Uh… my shoulder. And he sort of almost strangled me. It's not going to happen again, though…" Maybe it was because he was so close, but Rory could have sworn he saw something weirdly like relief in Reed's eyes. At any rate, Reed released him.

_Is he glad I'm being honest? It's not like he'd be glad I got beaten up… I can't tell if he's mad or just… the usual._

Rory went to pick up his book, because it was something to do. "I took a shower like you asked." He hesitated. "Are you angry?"

Reed was pulling off his gloves. "Of course I am. The situation is unacceptable."

Rory swallowed. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I did not say I was angry with you."

"Oh."

That was a relief, at least.

"Who did this?" Reed's tone was brusque, almost impersonal.

Well, turnabout was fair play. "Axis. You know who that-?"

"Of course I do." Reed began to unbutton his jacket. "Rhys' whore. He'll regret the day he laid his filthy hands on what is mine."

Rory wasn't sure he was following. Maybe time for a change of subject? "Um, is that a new haircut?"

Reed paused removing his cufflinks for a moment to glance at him. "You expressed disapproval of my hair. Accordingly, I changed it."

"I did?" Rory couldn't remember saying anything about it either way, but the appropriate response was obvious. "Um… thank you. It's nice."

"I fear I have not always been clear in my appreciation." Was he moving closer now? But Reed hadn't even finished undressing! "I plan to rectify this oversight. I have no intention whatsoever of allowing you to feel undesirable."

"But," Rory blurted out, "you told me I wasn't your type!"

"You will be."

Before Rory could process that ominous comment, Reed advanced on him. "Am I not yours?"

"Y-yes. I mean, no? I mean," Rory swallowed, "yes, you are my type."

"And yet there may be others."

Rory's heel hit the wall. He hadn't meant to back away, but he really wasn't sure where this was going, and it made him nervous. "Others? What others?"

"Others that you find yourself attracted to." Reed put his arm on the wall by Rory's head. "You are, after all, no longer a virgin. Perhaps I have awoken a hunger in you."

"Hunger?" Rory stared up at Reed. "What… I'm not hungry!" His stomach growled. "Well, okay, I am hungry. For food. Not for whatever you're implying."

Reed stroked Rory's face with a single sweaty finger. "You are, of course, pleasing to my eye."

"I am?" Rory said, stupidly.

"Shall I tell you how much?"

"Um… okay."

"You have very sensual lips."

Suddenly Reed was kissing him, tongue slithering into Rory's shocked mouth, hands pinning Rory in place and sliding over his body, stroking and groping too quickly for Rory to process. Just when he thought he should do something, Reed pulled back, leaving Rory gaping at him. His mouth felt slimy.

"Your arms and legs are thin, but you are still a youth. I look forward to seeing you fill out."

Rory was still trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to say to that when Reed squeezed his ass, hard. "Ow! What-?"

"Your buttocks please me."

_Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Please let him think I'm red because I'm turned on and not because I cannot believe he just said buttocks._

The laughter died in Rory's throat when Reed seized his wrist and spun him around, shoving him face first against the wall. _W-what?_

He ripped Rory's shirt off his body, and then pressed a kiss between Rory's shoulder blades.

Rory felt sick. The wallpaper was smooth against his cheek.

"You have the skin of a little boy. Tell me, how do you keep it so smooth?"

"I…"

"Did you never go outside?" Reed's hands were so clammy. "Did your father forbid you, to keep your virtue intact?"

"What?" Rory almost laughed. This was going in a weird direction. To say the least.

"Did he suspect what you were?" Another kiss, on the top of his head. Why? "Did he call you-"

"I never knew my father!" Rory burst out, but it didn't matter.

Reed's hand, large and unwelcome, slid down the front of Rory's pants, grabbing him roughly. "Your penis is perfect."

_Why is this… it's just a bodily response, that's why. It's not because I…_

_I don't like this._

_I…_

Reed's breath was hot in his ear. "Tell me. When did you first begin to masturbate?"

"What did you just-"

"Did I stutter?"

Rory closed his eyes, burning with tears of humiliation. "I don't know," he whispered.

"You must have found it hard to resist."

He remembered Remy, standing in the moonlight so he could see right through her nightgown. _You invited me, little brother._

Reed was pulling down Rory's pants now, leaving him horribly exposed and increasingly certain where this was going. Reflexively, Rory clenched his teeth.

"I find it difficult to believe you became a prostitute without some idea of your own assets.

He heard rather than saw Reed unscrewing a bottle. The sound flooded Rory with dread he could not explain.

_I should relax. It's not different, really. I've done this before. I even… I liked it before. I'm just being a big baby. Isn't this what you wanted, him telling you how much he needs you?_

_Isn't this what you thought would happen? What you knew would happen?_

"How many men did you tempt as a boy?"

"Tempt? I don't- _ah!"_

The sudden slap of hard flesh on his bare ass had to be Reed's hand, leaving what felt like viscous trails of either sweat or…

_No, don't, please don't!_

Rory squeezed his eyes shut

"How long have you fantasized about being fucked by strange men?"

"I didn't!" Rory gasped. "It wasn't like th-"

"Only me, then?"

_It hurts…_

"You are too tight, Rory." His finger left, and Rory tried not to slump with relief. "Turn around."

Confused, Rory did, slowly. He still felt sick, even though it seemed like Reed had changed his mind.

The last thing he expected was for Reed to get down on his knees.

 _An apology?_ Rory thought, stupidly.

"You give me great pleasure," Reed leaned in and Rory recoiled.

_Oh fucking fuck._

Reed's eyebrows slanted just the slightest bit. "Stand still."

"Sorry!" Rory gasped.

"You're shaking your head."

"I…" Rory realized he was right. He forced himself to stop, and took a deep breath. "S-sorry."

Reed grasped Rory's erection (and how was it even _possible_ for him to be hard like this when the rest of him felt so hollow and unreal?) his fingertips slippery and sickening. "Relax."

Reed took Rory's cock into his mouth.

Rory sobbed, the sound slipping out before he could stop himself. It was a noise of distress, but in his ears it sounded horribly like pleasure. _Why am I like this?_

It was all wrong, somehow, even though if Rory had seen it and not been in his own body he would have thought it wasn't.

He was shaking his head again, and he didn't know when he'd started doing that, but his hands were trembling at his sides, fingers twisting in and out of fists, not knowing whether they should move and try to seem encouraging or grab Reed by his dark roots and rip him away, but what if Reed closed his mouth and bit right through Rory's- _how was he still hard?!_

He was swaying, how long had he been swaying? How long had they been like this? How long was Reed going to-

One of his hands jerked up when Reed pulled away, nails digging into Rory's palm in a tight fist that Rory couldn't seem to get himself to unclench, though slowly, slowly he managed to lower it.

_I'm not… I… this isn't me. This isn't happening. This isn't real._

Reed wiped his mouth, slowly. "Your stamina has improved. Very good. You were pathetically inadequate at first." _  
_

It felt like there was a weight in Rory's throat. He couldn't speak.

Reed stood, and Rory was reminded once again of how utterly Reed towered over him. One of Reed's hands caught Rory by the chin, forcing him to make eye contact.

He leaned in, and Rory tried to pull back, but found himself pushed up against the wall again, his head yanked up so Reed could crush his lips against Rory's and suck on his tongue, leaving behind the bitter taste of Rory's own semen.

Rory's hands moved before his brain did, slamming up against Reed's brick wall of a chest and trying to shove him back before Rory gagged right into Reed's mouth. For a moment, it seemed like it worked. Reed pulled out of the kiss, though his body didn't move. _  
_

Rory gasped for air, looking anywhere but at Reed's stony face. "I… " He almost spit on the carpet, to get the taste out of his mouth, but he remembered just in time that Reed would hate it. "I…" He couldn't decide if he should pull his pants back up or peel them off entirely, and he really couldn't decide if he wanted to do that because-

"I prefer it when you do not pretend to be timid and reticent. I know what you enjoy. Modesty does not become you, Rory."

_But I'm not being-_

He flinched at Reed's touch.

A sigh. "Do you require further demonstrations of my affection?"

"I-It's just that I d-don't…"

"Look at me." Rory hesitated, but before he could figure out why, his head was jerked backwards so he had no choice but to look into Reed's disaffected eyes.

"I have taken great pains with you. I have been very generous. I have tolerated your eccentricities and your childish attitudes. But there comes a time when a boy must become a man."

Before Rory could manage so much as a _what_ Reed had hoisted him up into the air with seemingly no effort, depositing him on the table with a heavy thump that did nothing to make Rory's ass feel less sore.

Worse, Rory felt his back making contact with something that gave way, and desperately turned around only to see-

"No, the cookies!" Rory gasped, reaching out for the basket, too late to keep them from spilling on the floor. "I… I made them… for you."

"I've told you before I don't like sweets." Reed pulled Rory's pants off one leg. "I do like your feet, particularly the way they twitch when you finish."

"Please, let me-"

"You will not, until I say so." Reed brushed hair back from Rory's face and licked his neck, his tongue like a snail climbing across Rory's Adam's apple, his hands clamped on Rory's thighs, pulling them further apart.

_Please, not now, just-_

Rory cried out when Reed ground against him, and hated himself.

"Did you squirm in this manner for Rhys' whore?"

"No!" Rory gasped, horrified. "I would never-"

"I thought not." Reed stroked Rory's cheek and Rory shuddered. "Not deliberately, at least. You would not debauch yourself so carelessly, is that not so?"

 _"Debauch?"_ was all Rory could think to say.

"Debauch," Reed repeated. "To corrupt, pervert-"

"I know what it means!" Rory closed his eyes, and tried to focus on his mind and not his horrible, miserable arousal. He shook his head.

"Remember, you are mine, and only mine."

"I remember," Rory whispered.

He'd never really believed it until that moment.

Reed's mouth was on his, Reed's tongue shoving its way in and wriggling around, his hands-

Rory felt something warm and angular against his lower back, and he realized it had to be the quiche or the eggplant parmesan, still covered. If Reed kept pushing him back like this… the entrees he'd worked so hard on would end up on the floor just like the cookies, smashed and inedible.

He had to get off this table, and there was only one way he could think of that would work for certain.

Rory leaned forward, into the kiss, swiping his tongue before pulling his mouth away and trailing one hand down Reed's chest. "Not _here,"_ he said, lowering his voice coyly. His stomach churned. _Like you mean it._ "I want to try something else."

Rory slid down so his feet touched the floor. Well aware he was being watched carefully, he turned his back to Reed and braced his hands on the table. _If I just… get it over with..._

He felt Reed's oily hands on his back, shoving him down so he was bent over the table.

_If I just… let him..._

_This can't be happening. This isn't happening. I'm not here, I'm not-_

"Relax," Reed said. "You're too tight again. _Relax."_

Rory took a deep, shuddering breath, and his mind

went

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  _  
_

 

 

 

_je n'ai pas pleuré_

_je n'ai pas souffert_

_ce n'était qu'un RÊvuh_

_et qu'une fol-ie_

"Whore," Reed breathed.

_IL ME SUFFIRA_

Reed grasped him by the hair and yanked his head back. "Tell me you adore me."

_QUE TES YEUX SOI CLAIRS_

"I adore you."

_SANS REGRET du SOIR_

He couldn't tell if Reed was trying to pet his hair or lightly smack his head.

_ni mélancolie_

The eggplant parmesan was probably cold now.

_Ne me parle pas, lorsomething le soir, trop inti-mement voix bassuh qui mêm_

_Con-te moi comawn il a pri tonheur, et mêmuh dis moi ce something something dir_

"Come for me," Reed growled.

_DIS MOI TES AMOURS_

_JE NE T'AIME PAS_

"Are you listening?"

_QUELLE HEURE TE FUT LA PLUS EN IVRAH JE NE_

"Ow!"

_T'AIME PAS..._

Reed had bitten his ear. "I asked you a question, Rory."

_je n'ai pas pleure_

_je n'ai pas souffert…_

"I heard you."

_ce n'était qu'une rê-ve_

"Tell me, are you close?"

_et qu'une folly_

"I guess."

 _Il me suffir "_ AAH!"

_QUE TES YEUX SOIENT CLAIRS_

_SANS REGRET DU SOIR_

_NI MELANCHOLY_

"Did you say something?"

_IL ME SUFFIRA_

_DE VOIR TON BONHEUR_

Rory sobbed.

_IL ME SUFFIRA DE VOIR TE SOURIR_

"Do it," Reed growled. _  
_

"Ne me donne pas sur touton morir, il- _AH!"_

A white hot jolt of pleasure pushed everything out of Rory's mind for a moment, more than a moment, until he was aware of Reed nuzzling the back of his neck, and everything inside him seemed to plummet down, further down than he'd ever been before, into the very depths of miserable worthlessness.

It was like his skin wasn't really his skin, like there was a whole layer of grime coating him, and worst of all _Reed was still inside him._

_Oh god no, no, please no more…_

_Je ne t'aime pas, je ne t'aime pas, je ne t'aime pas-_

It was out, and Rory was-

 

Rory was…

 

Reed had gone over to the bed and was gesturing for Rory to follow him.

Woodenly, Rory obeyed.

They were lying on the bed, half covered by a thin sheet. Rory on his side facing the windows, Reed pressed against his back.

Reed put his arm over Rory, his huge hand coming to rest a fraction of an inch away from Rory's chin.

"Are you happy?"

Reed's words were a roar, rumbling through the back of Rory and spoken directly into his ear.

Rory closed his eyes. "Yes."

He wished he could curl up in a ball and cry.

_Are you a man **,** little brother? _

Remy's voice was clear as a bell in his head.

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You got exactly what you wanted. And it worked, didn't it? You've got him all gooey over you. This is your chance, so don't waste it, you stupid fuck._

Rory smiled, slowly. "I've always wondered what brought you here."

"To this establishment?"

"No, to Ivore. You come from Verone, right?"

"That is correct." A pause. "I have not seen my home country in nearly ten years."

"Wow." _Go on, get him talking._ "Don't you miss your family at all?"

"Occasionally. Not at the present moment." Reed shifted a little. "I saw a great deal of them recently, at my cousin's wedding."

"Your cousin married a nobleman in Ivore?" Rory prompted.

A long pause.

_Did you fuck it up, Rory? Is he wondering what he's doing with such a stupid little-_

"She is married to the King. Rhys D'Ivore."

"Oh." Rory tried not to sound relieved. "I guess your family's pretty important, then."

"I was originally sent to this country to further their interests. Ideally, to sow the seeds of an alliance by marrying some well-placed female and providing a reason for one of the Buckley girls to visit and charm the young prince."

"Female?" Reed had practically spat out the word.

"Men, in Verone, fuck women. No exceptions."

Rory realized abruptly Reed was still talking, and he hadn't still been paying attention. _Get it together, dumbass.  
_

"…repulsed me, but I knew if I remained under the same roof as my father I would either murder him, marry a woman of his choice, or go insane. Therefore I agreed to go to Ivore."

"So…" _Let's just pretend I got that._ "What happened then?"

"I arrived in this country just in time to receive an invitation to Prince Rhys' birthday celebration. My expectations were not high. I fully expected to encounter another spoilt youth with no concerns past the size of his cake. I have never enjoyed babysitting, and could not imagine that I would have much to say to a fifteen year old brat." A pause. "The boy I met was not like that."

 _Reed… knows Rhys? The King?_ "What was he like, then?"

"Lonely."

Reed stroked Rory's head, and Rory tried not to tense up but missed the next few words.

"…saw him afterwards in the garden. I asked him what his birthday wish had been. He grimaced, and claimed it had been for people to stop asking him such inane questions. I meant to give him privacy, as he seemed unhappy, but…" Reed's hand stilled. "He asked me to stay. He said I might give him a birthday worth remembering. I did not understand what he meant, but… regardless, I stayed."

Rory wondered why he wasn't more excited by this development.

"There was much I did not understand about his behavior at first. Much of this I put down to cultural differences, including his early inelegant attempts at flirtation. Unfortunately this culminated in an ugly scene where I threatened him in the presence of his royal father, after he rudely implied that my interest in him was sexual."

"Yikes." _You mean it wasn't?_

"Naturally, I assumed my days in Ivore were numbered. To my great surprise, as I was putting my things in order, Rhys came to see me alone." A pause. "He expressed great remorse for his words and actions. Apparently he had no idea how much more serious his accusation would have been in Verone. I said if that was his idea of a joke, I didn't think much of his humor, nor appreciate being torn down as part of a squabble between father and son." Rory felt Reed exhale. "He had hurt me very deeply. His apologies were irrelevant, because to my great shame, he had casually blurted out my most secret truth."

"That you were gay?" Rory ventured, not sure if this was really going where he thought it was going.

"That I wanted him. Badly."

 _Oh, great._ "How old were you, again?"

"Twenty. Old enough to have devised many strategies for repressing my most impure desires. But those were for Verone, where such things went unspoken of in polite society. I had no appropriate strategy for Rhys, who came to my room at night and demanded to know if I truly found the idea of being with him so horrible. When he asked me to stay in Ivore, my resolve weakened." A pause. "I came to realize that he had no idea I was attracted to men. The truth of it was that he was attracted to me, and having received what he believed was a rejection, proceeded to do his best to avoid the subject in my presence while continuing our friendly association. Unfortunately for him, he was still fifteen, and his best was less than adequate."

_So you make a habit of 'associating' with screwed-up teenagers, huh?_

Reed shifted again. "I assumed he would move on and mingle fluids with one of the many simpering girls he used to leer at. The persistent thought of his body on their filthy sheets nauseated me, but I accepted its inevitability. No one who could truly choose between a normal passion for women and a deviant passion for men would select the latter, I believed."

"It's not deviant," Rory said, because he really didn't want to think about Reed's weird fixation on dirty women. "At least, not here it's not." _Seriously, you have no idea what deviant feels like._

"So Rhys told me. He seemed to find it insulting that I assumed there was any such choice in his future. That was how he came to realize that it was only men I wanted." Another pause. "That was the first time he called me an idiot."

Rory wasn't sure if he'd missed something again. "For… being gay?"

"He told me I was not sick, or alone. He was angry on my behalf. Full of absurd suggestions and youthful ideas about how I should throw away my life in Verone to spite my family. I asked if he thought it was as easy for me to humiliate my father as it was for him to antagonize his. He said…"

It wasn't Rory's imagination. Reed really had just trailed off and stopped.

Finally, Rory couldn't take the silence any longer. His skin itched with it. "What did he say?"

"I walked out of the room before he could finish his sentence." A pause. "He sought me out wherever I went. Even when I said my presence was required in Verone, he threatened to write me letters every day. Terrible letters, he said. I assured him I could imagine no other kind. His favorite poetry was always either overly sentimental or vulgar."

Rory suspected Reed's threshold for 'overly sentimental' was almost impossible not to clear. "So… he still liked you."

"So it seemed."

_That makes one of us._

_Why is he telling me this whole story, anyway? I get it, you actually liked Rhys as a person and I'll never measure up. Sorry I'm too fucked up to make you feel better about yourself, I guess._

_I wish I'd just liked guys._

_It would have been so much easier._

_He has no fucking idea what it's like to love someone that can't help but destroy you._

_I really am sick._

_And I really am alone._

"Little by little, my resolve crumbled. When I saw him fraternizing with others, I realized I hated the idea of him pursuing a new obsession. Finally, I had to ask him how many men he was fucking."

The window was open. Rory wondered if the window had been open this whole time.

"…despite all his talk, Rhys was truly a virgin, as I was. Remarkably, he was embarrassed by this fact, which he had taken great pains to hide from me. He seemed to believe it was proof that he was in some way lacking. Ludicrous." A pause. "I decided to take him then. As I was not fully aware of the range of possibilities open to us, it was his idea to begin by sucking my-"

_ALL RIGHT, I DON'T NEED TO KNOW THAT, LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA…._

"Rory, you are humming tunelessly. It is very irritating."

"Huh?" Rory realized Reed had stopped talking. "Oh, sorry."

"As I was saying, we fucked on several more occasions, until I realized he was bent on becoming the palace slut."

_Wait, what? Ugh, I'm so tired._

"…The doctors said it was impossible to confirm or deny what effect being touched by someone who had copulated freely with so many promiscuous persons had upon my formerly mild OCD, but it clearly did me no favors. I had touched that body, coated in the sweat of brutish pigs and unhygienic wenches. And his response to my illness was less than graceful." Reed exhaled. "And still he persisted in flaunting his contaminated body, as though it would make me forget how low he had sunk."

"My sister used to do that," Rory said absently. "I never knew how I was supposed to deal with it." _I never thought of her as contaminated, though. How would that even work?_

He… probably shouldn't have said that out loud.

"Your sister?"

"I mean, uh… it's not important. What were you saying?"

"Go on. Your sister was a woman of ill repute?"

"I guess." _She had her reasons, though._ "I mean, she'd just walk around naked in front of me, all the time, tormenting me." Remy had laughed in his face when he'd used that word before. Just thinking about it made him angry. "And I _hated_ it, I hated the way she made me feel. But no matter how awful she was to me, no matter how crazy she got, I still had these awful twisted _feelings_ for her. Feelings I didn't know what to do with. And I just, I, I had to…" He had to fix this, he had to be the person Reed thought he was. The person that loved Reed. "I… I think I'm gay?"

_Keep fucking talking, you're not out of the woods yet, peanut brain._

"I-it all makes sense now." _Does it?_ "B-being with you feels… it feels…" _disgusting horrible miserable not_ "…right."

Astonishingly, Reed seemed to accept that. "How is it that you came to the Teahouse?It's always been obvious to me that you come from a proper background. You could have done far better."

Rory almost laughed. _Yeah, a proper nouveau riche background. Fake it till you make it._ "I didn't want to go where my sister could follow me. I mean, I had to go and make some money, fast…" _Don't invent something too elaborate._ "Because our mom… our mom was sick.She'd been sick for a long time… I was worried. And I thought it'd be healthier for Remy and I not to be together. In the same house, I mean."

"Were you close with your mother?"

_Is he actually interested? That’s a first._

"Yeah," Rory admitted. "I mean, my dad left when I was really little, so growing up it was just the… three of us." _Might as well pretend Remy and I grew up together, since that's what he'd expect._

"So you were lonely as well."

 _As well as who? You? Rhys?_ "A bit, I guess."

Rory felt Reed's arm closing in around him. "Do not worry about the past. Your future is with me."

 _Speaking of the future…_ Rory glanced at the clock. “Are you… spending the night, then?”

“If it pleases you.”

“Yes!” Rory said quickly, and quickly regretted it. “I mean, of course. I mean…”

Reed’s hand turned Rory’s head to face him, and pulled him into a sloppy, invasive kiss.

_What am I… what am I doing?_

“It’s just…! I mean, I’d really appreciate it, but…” He couldn’t take this anymore, he had to get Reed _out_ somehow or else he was going to start screaming and never stop. “I’m… I’m not sure this is such a good night to stay.”

For a moment, Reed’s stony eyes just stared blankly at him. Rory thought he might scream.

Then, Reed sat up, slowly. "Explain."

"I…"

"Look at me."

"I…" Rory stared up at Reed's merciless face, and seized on the most revolting excuse he could possibly imagine. "It's embarrassing, but… I didn't really eat right and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to be going to the toilet _a lot_ , okay?" _  
_

He'd never seen Reed move to leave so quickly before, not even when he'd been throwing things at his head.

_Why didn't I think of that before?_

"Sorry," Rory said, although he wasn't. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Indeed." There was thinly veiled disgust in Reed's tone, and Rory wondered if he'd gone too far. "I trust this is not a usual affliction."

Rory shook his head.

"Then I will make arrangements for when you are… settled."

"Okay." Rory watched the door close behind Reed

It took him a long while to really process that he was alone.

Rory's first impulse was to get dressed immediately and cover himself, but then he thought about how dirty he felt.

Showering helped, but not by much. He felt horribly exposed and anxious standing naked under the water, even though there was no reason to believe anyone would come barging through the bathroom door. Even though there was no lock.

Physically, he could scrub off most of Reed's… residue, and soap up until he no longer smelled like him, but even when his body was red and pink he couldn't quite shake the creepy crawly feeling of Reed _under_ his skin.

And his ass still hurt.

Rory shut off the water and grabbed his orange robe. He made it all of three steps out of the tub before he caught sight of himself in the mirror and had to sit down on the bathroom tile immediately.

_That black eye… I almost forgot I had it._

_I'm so stupid. This is all my fault. I should have actually used Linneus' makeup to cover it up, what was I thinking?_

_You just had to beg for attention, didn't you, you sad stupid toddler._

_And you liked it, didn't you? You got off on it, like you always do.  
_

Rory squeezed his eyes shut and his head ached. He was shivering uncontrollably even though he wasn't cold at all.

_But it wasn't the same. It wasn't like I- I didn't ask him to talk to me like that. I didn't-_

_Why should he have to ask? He's said it himself, he pays to fuck you, not to listen to you talk._

The tiled floor was cool and unforgiving.

_I wish…_

_I wish I..._

_Oh god, his fucking come's still in my ass, and it's going to be coming back out little by little, and IDON'T WANT TO DO ANY OF THIS ANYMORE!_

Rory sobbed, and once the tears started leaking out he couldn't stop them no matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, and now his nose was starting to run too, and he had to wipe the snot away with the sleeves of his robe so it wouldn't get in his mouth like his tears were already doing, like when Reed had kissed him after-

He should have fought. He should have made up some excuse to stop earlier, he should have stood up for himself. Not… not encouraged him.

"Oh my _god,"_ Rory moaned, burying his wet face in his hands.

 _Not here_ , he'd said, _I want to try something else_ , he'd said, and no one made him do it. No one forced him to bend over and take it. And he was an adult now, and he'd signed his rights over and agreed to be Reed's knowing exactly what that meant, not like Remy.

She'd laugh at him if she could see him now, hunched over on the bathroom floor in an awful half open robe he was using as a huge tissue, snivelling so hard he could barely breathe, and over what?

_Why was it so fucking important to keep the food from ending up on the floor, you dumb cunt? They were all right about you, they've been right all along, you're not a man, you're a spineless little boy who thought he knew better than everybody else, and you know what? You deserve this. You fucking deserve it, after what you did to Remy. You failed her on every possible level and then you failed yourself. Did you really think it was going to be so easy? Did you think you'd already suffered even a fraction of what she did? YOU WANTED TO BURN, SO BURN, COWARD!_

"I'm so sorry, I.. I'm so so sorry, I…"

There was no knowing how long he lay there, lost in his own shame.

Eventually, he got up and changed into clothes, throwing the robe on the floor to be cleaned along with the top sheet Reed had lain on. He threw the cookies in the trash after one got crushed under his foot by accident.

Well, he didn't throw all the cookies away. A couple had managed to stay in the overturned basket, so he left them in when he picked up the basket. Then he moved the basket to the mantelpiece.

The eggplant parmesan and quiche were obviously cold.

He'd bring the eggplant parmesan downstairs for everyone else's dinner. Linneus could heat it up.

For his part, Rory picked up the quiche and sat down with it against the door to the hallway. It was cold, but it was food, and he ate the whole thing greedily.

He’d stay up here. They’d assume he was with Reed. No one would blame him for not being social. It was fine. Acceptable, even.

He could hear Mercutio singing downstairs, his voice rich and passionate. It seemed there were words to the tender song he'd played a little of last night, even if Rory couldn't really understand them.

"Must be nice to be good at something," Rory muttered.

People made fun of Mercutio, but they came to see him because he was supposed to be good at all the weird sex things they wanted to try. Rory could almost understand why he'd be proud of it, if he thought about it that way. Mercutio had skills to offer.

No one expected Rory to have skills. How could they? His price was based on being inexperienced. Even when Reed decided to tell Rory he was desirable, none of it was about stuff he'd could help. If he were literally unconscious he'd still have a _perfect penis._

_Oh suck it up, crybaby. Other people have it so much worse than you._

Like Remy.

_How could she enjoy this? This… this humiliation._

The answer came immediately.

_The same way you enjoyed it._

_You’re weak._

_You’re disgusting._

There were birds chirping outside. Rory had seen them sometimes, perched just on the other side of the kitchen window.

Must be nice to be a bird.

Rory closed his eyes, but all he could imagine was the sound of his own voice purring _I want to try something else_ , or the feeling of Reed’s spittle hitting his cheek as he growled _whore,_ the feeling of-

emptiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Arthur Rimbaud's _A Season In Hell_. 
> 
> Je ne t'aime pas is a cabaret song written in 1934, music by Kurt Weill, lyrics by Maurice Magre.


	5. I Know I'm Diving Into My Own Destruction

Something was wrong with Rory.

Remy hadn't been certain at first. He was avoiding her, but that was nothing new. He nearly punched Mercutio in the face one time when Mercutio popped up behind him, but that was understandable. He wasn't talking much, but Remy never got why anyone would want to have a big conversation while they were eating in the first place.

The thing was, he'd made the same dinner three nights in a row. And he kept trying to pass off fucking "tapas platters" as lunch.

But eventually Remy realized that Rory wasn't avoiding her.

He was avoiding _everyone._

Something was very wrong, and Remy was going to find out what it was.

No matter how much it scared her.

Not that she was scared. That was stupid, what was there to be _scared_ of? It was just that she needed to confront him about it, but she never got the chance because he was making sure they were never alone together. Probably because he didn't trust her not to come on to him and ruin his high minded ideals of sisterly behavior. Which made him an outrageous goddamn hypocrite, but whatever, he'd get over it eventually.

Remy could have gone to Rory’s room, but… if he was trying to be alone it wasn't like he'd let her in if she knocked, and the door had to be fixed by now. Besides, it was his room. His own personal space, as he liked to remind her when he was mad at her, which he probably still was. If he didn't want to see her, she didn't want to see him. End of story.  

Only she couldn't stand being alone again.

So she waited for him in the kitchen.

"Remy, take your feet off the table," was all her brother had to say to her when he finally showed his face.

Well, at least Rory was talking to her.

Remy waggled her toes at him. "Where should I put them, then?"

Rory sighed. "On the floor."

She made a face and swung her legs back down. Rory was moving things around in the kitchen, not paying attention to her. "Am I in your way or something?"

He paused. "No."

And yet he immediately started moving around again, not even in a way that made it seem like he had any actual direction, just taking things out and putting them down and going somewhere else and picking them up again and putting them back away, like he just completely had no idea what he was trying to do. It put Remy on edge. "Well, you don't have to _ignore_ me."

"I'm not ignoring you, you're just not talking."

Point to overly literal brother. "I'm talking _now_ and you're still running around like your ass is on fire."

"I really don't think I'm running."

"Okay fine, _wandering_ , same fucking difference. And can you _look at me_ when we're having a conversation?" Remy snapped.

Rory slowed, turning to face her. His eyes met hers for a second before going all vague and unfocused like he was doing a fucking Pinky impression. "What do you want?"

Remy hesitated.

Rory wasn't even angry. He just looked… tired. Tired, and sad. Like he'd given up.

She wanted to shake him, slap him, yell at him and make him fight her.

But what if all the fight had gone out of him?

What if he just stood there, hurting?

"The muffins yesterday were good," Remy mumbled, because even if it was stupid she couldn't stand the idea of making him look any sadder.

Rory blinked, and for a moment he almost looked like himself again. "Thank you."

_He's… he's happy? Because of something I said?_

"Sure, whatever." Her face was just hot in here because her brother was probably messing with the ovens or something. "You're good at that, making sweets. I'd probably just blow everything up by accident or get impatient and eat stuff so there wasn't enough to bake or whatever."

"Did you ever try?"

Remy shrugged, and Rory came over to her, his hand resting on the back of the seat by her head. "I could teach you, you know. I'd be happy to. Everyone has to start somewhere."

"I'm trying to be nice, not asking you for help!" Remy burst out.

_Fuck, don't tell him that!_

She grabbed his wrist and almost let go when he flinched, she was so surprised.

"Why are you trying to be nice?" Rory said, guarded. She could feel how tense he was just through his wrist, and she hated herself for making him feel this way. "That's a new tactic."

"Fuck you, it's not like I've never been nice to you before," Remy retorted, even if she couldn't think of anything definitive at the moment. "Because you're acting like neurotic bunny rabbit and it's fucking making me anxious, okay?" Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ that came out wrong! She closed her eyes and forced herself to loosen her grip on his wrist. "Don't run away from me, Rory. Please. You're all I have."

Remy nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Rory's other hand cup her cheek. Slowly, she opened her eyes, steeling herself for the disgusting look of pity she was sure to see on his face.

She didn't get that.

"I'm not running." Rory's voice was thick with some emotion she didn't dare think to name. "I'm not. You're…" His hand stroked her face and it was all Remy could do not to shiver. "You're my sister, Remy. I never want to fail you again."

_And I don't want to fail you._

_I love you._

She wanted to reach for him, to touch his face and brush his hair out of his pretty eyes. She wanted to kiss his hands, his cheeks, his mouth… but he didn't want any of that.

So Remy let go of his wrist.

There was so much that she wanted to say that she couldn't seem to say anything at all.

"I'm trying to be better," Rory said, after a long silence.

"At what?" Remy asked, because that was absurd.

"Everything. Just… you know, trying to be a man, like you always said I should."

She couldn't believe he was serious. "You _are_ a man. No matter what I said."

Rory laughed, harshly, and Remy's heart sunk. "It's too bad no one else agrees."

"I don't give a shit what anyone else told you and neither should you!"

_How dare they talk to Rory like that, how dare they tell him he's not good enough!_

"You think I want you to be like Eyebrows? You think you'll be _happier_ that way, pretending to be someone you're not?"

"I've been doing that for a long time," Rory said coldly.

Remy swallowed. "That doesn't have anything to do with being a man. That's just being a liar. Which fine, that's your business. But I don't understand why you'd think you need to be _better_. There's nothing wrong with you!"

Rory let out a choked noise. "Nothing… wrong with me? Nothing _wrong with me?_ Have you gone completely insane? Or is that just what you have to tell yourself to stand it? I know you're not trying to spare my feelings, because god knows you've never done _that_. What's wrong with me? How about all the things _you've_ said yourself? I'm pathetic, I'm selfish, I'm spineless, I'm weak, I'm a liar, I'm a whiner, I'm a hypocrite, and I don't know anything, unlike you, right?"  

"I…"

"And you're full of _shit_ , Remy! All you do is screw around and get into petty fights that don't matter! And if you're doing something more important than that, well excuse me for not noticing, because I've been a little busy making sure Lord Reed gets his money's worth! But I'm sure that pales in comparison to the skill level involved in hurting Claret's feelings, or-"

"Shut up." She couldn't listen to this anymore.

"Why? So you can tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself and make sure I know that you're the fuck-up, not me?"

"Shut _up!"_

"Or is it that you only like me when I'm the one you can lash out and tear apart like this, the one that has to stand there and take it when you're feeling down?"

 Remy threw her hands up over her ears and Rory dragged them back down, his grip painfully tight around her wrists.

"Do you want me to stop talking, or do you want me to stop feeling anything that's inconvenient to you and your problems? And I know you have problems, and I know it's been hard on you, but sometimes it feels like no matter what I do I can't get anything right and nothing I do has any value or means anything to anybody, especially not you!" He was shaking her by the wrists now, and it felt like he was screaming because he was right in her face even though he probably wasn't screaming because Rory didn't lose control, not like- "And it's like no matter what happens, it's never enough! Even my pain isn't real to you because you can't stand the idea of me being hurt worse than you!"

Remy wasn't going to cry.

Remy never cried.

Remy wasn't going to cry.

Remy wasn't going to cry, Remy wasn't going to cry, Remy wasn't going to cry, Remy wasn't-

"Remy? Remy, I didn't… Remy, I just needed to…" He was touching her shoulders, why was he touching her shoulders? "Remy, I'm an asshole, but it's not your fault. Please say something. Please just let me know you're alive in there-"

_You can't stand the idea of me being hurt worse than you?_

_You can't stand the… the idea of…_

"Rory," Remy whispered.

"Oh thank _god!_ I don't know why I said that. I didn't-"

"Rory, I failed you."

Rory stared at her, his face sad and uncomprehending.

"I don't know how, but I must have." Remy swallowed. "It wasn't supposed to turn out like this."

She felt very small and weak.

And stupid.

"How was it supposed to turn out?" Rory asked, his tone skeptical.

Remy shrugged, watching her feet swing. "If I was here… then you'd be safe. It'd be the same as it always was. I'd be the whore and you'd be the virgin, and even if it meant you hated me…"

"Remy, it doesn't work that way." Rory took her hands in his, squatting a little. "Danger's not lightning. We can both be in trouble at the same time."

"I _know_ that," Remy ground out. _I just tried not to think about it._ "God, don't try and comfort me. You'll just make me feel worse."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, let you sit around blaming yourself for every stupid decision I made?" Rory rolled his eyes. "Move over so I can sit next to you."

Slowly, she did. It was the least she could do, after everything.

Rory sat down, his shoulder brushing against hers. Remy looked straight ahead, because it was the only way she could muster up the courage to ask the question she had to ask.

"Rory. What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

Silence.

Remy took a deep breath and exhaled. Again. "Rory, who hurt you?"

She felt him tense beside her, his thigh by her thigh. "I don't want to talk about it."

Remy bit the inside of her lip. "Okay, fine. Whatever." She glanced at him and saw he was staring hard at some vague point by his knees. Without a word, she slipped her hand into his.

_What good am I?_

_What's the point in me being here if I couldn't protect the one person I needed to protect?_

_The one person that didn't care about the past._

_The one person that… that didn't think it was my fault._

"I failed the first time I tried to get off the ship, you know." That got Rory's attention, even if Remy wasn't sure why she'd said it.

"You did?"

Remy swallowed. "I did. I… I had this stupid plan to run off with the cabin boy. I think I must have thought I loved him, or something. Anyway, we got caught."

She felt Rory lean against her, his fingers entwining with hers. "Did you get in trouble?"

"Depends on what you mean by trouble. The first thing they did was tell him what a slut I was, that I'd been with most of the crew and would never be the kind of girl he could take home to his mother. He didn't believe them. Not until they started talking about the stuff I'd do in bed, the way I looked with my clothes off… all the things he knew were true."

Rory exhaled, but Remy wasn't about to give him a chance to comment, not yet anyway.

"So then he hated me, both because I lied to him and because he thought I'd made a fool of him. The last time I saw him, he told me I was disgusting and spat on my face. And the worst part was, when he asked if I'd been using him, I couldn't deny it. Because I had been."

"Fuck that guy," Rory said sharply.

Remy let out a short, humorless laugh. "I did, believe me."

Rory's hand tightened in Remy's. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. How _dare_ he."

Despite herself, a little shiver of pleasure ran down Remy's spine at the thinly veiled fury in Rory's voice.

Abruptly, Rory let go of her hand and, before Remy could protest, wrapped his arms around her in an awkwardly angled hug. Remy squirmed till she was facing him, one knee on the seat and one knee off, and was rewarded with a look of such intensity in Rory's eyes that she forgot what she'd been talking about altogether.

"You're the opposite of disgusting," Rory whispered.

When he kissed her forehead, Remy nearly forgot to _breathe_.

_It's not over._

_He's still Rory. He still feels things. This place hasn't torn the sweetness out of him yet._

_He still cares._

Remy did brush the bangs out of her brother's eyes then. "Might be time for you to cut your hair, pretty boy."

He ripped himself out of her embrace and stalked over to the oven, breathing heavily. "Maybe I should cut my _face!"_

"What the hell is your problem?" Remy had no idea what she'd done wrong this time. "Don't cut your stupid face! It was a _joke!"_

Rory pulled a knife out of a drawer. "It wouldn't be a joke if I did it."

This wasn't happening.

Remy's head swam. There was enormous pressure between her eyes, a headache that would be relieved if she just… if she humiliated herself. If she let him see how weak she was. She couldn't do that. She _wouldn't_ do that.

She…

…she…

To save Rory, she…

"Please," Remy whispered, hoarsely.

Rory was holding her, all of a sudden, stroking her hair and, she realized, shaking as he did it, shaking almost violently.

He was weeping so she didn't have to.

Oddly, that kept her from being upset. It made her feel distant, which was almost a relief. All she had to do was put her arms around him. She knew how to do that now, at least.

Rory's hand running through her hair was sort of hypnotic, like the rise and fall of a ship's deck. She was so tired all of a sudden. So tired she knew she'd never be able to actually fall asleep.

"It's fine, I promise. I promise. It was a paring knife, I needed it for lunch. It's all right. We're all right. I promise."

_No matter what it takes_ , Remy vowed, _I will get you out of here. Get both of us out of here._

_Even if it means you stop loving me._

Her first thought was to seduce Xanthe Atros, but he was so wrapped up in Linnet Bird that the idea was quickly dismissed as unrealistic and a waste of time.

But then Remy remembered Atros’s wife.

Yvette Atros would be visiting soon. Remy didn't know when, exactly, and it wasn't like the lady stuck to a schedule these days, but she hadn't been here yesterday so it stood to reason that she was very likely to turn up today.

Whether Yvette was hoping to catch her husband in the act with someone else or just guilt trip him into paying attention to her, Remy couldn't say. Still, she'd been turning up a lot and rubbing her belly, so she was definitely looking for something.

Remy fully intended to give it to her.

When Remy left her brother in the kitchen making lunch, she glanced over at the entrance hall, considering finding a reason to lurk by the door. But Clarin was out there knitting something hideous and gossiping with Merutio, and there were only so many other girls Remy could deal with in one day.

So she went upstairs, just to make sure she knew Eyebrows wasn't planning on actually talking to his pregnant wife today.

Now, the Teahouse was a whorehouse, but if Remy had to say one thing in its favor she would admit that you didn't usually hear people screwing all over the place. Also, it didn't smell that bad. But that wasn't the point.

The point was, it was unusual enough to actually _hear_ someone whining "Xanthe, _Xanthe!"_ from the stairwell that Remy felt compelled to investigate further.

And there was Eyebrows in his office, nailing Liranus on his desk with the door half open. So much for secrecy.

The door closed itself and Remy jumped.

No wait, Argent had just been standing on the other side. She didn't look particularly happy to see Remy.

_So join the club._

“Oh!” Remy widened her eyes, half covering her mouth with one hand. “You’re an terribly attentive guard, aren’t you?”

She hadn’t meant it to sound sarcastic but, well, this wasn’t exactly the crown jewels. _  
_

_Apparently more important than looking out for my brother, though._

Argent frowned. "You should go."

"Where?"

"How should I know?"

Remy smiled sweetly. "Maybe I came to talk to you."

Argent stared blankly at her.

Remy decided to just pretend Argent was a man. "People don't usually pay attention to you, do they, Argent?"

"I'm not going to let you in."

Remy wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to go in, believe me. I've already seen more than I wanted. Is this what Atros makes you do all day? Keep a watchful eye while he tests out the merchandise?"

Argent glanced away from Remy, which meant Remy was getting to her. She hoped.

"You deserve better than that, you know. At the very least, people should be looking you in the eye. You've got pretty eyes, by the way." Remy smiled, but kept her distance. Argent looked to be a shy one, and shy ones spooked easily.

"…Thank you?"

It was hard to tell, but Remy _thought_ Argent looked at least a little flattered. Flustered? Words that started with "fl" anyway. "How did you come to work here?"

Argent's eyes lowered. "Atros is my friend."

Remy frowned. "So he's not paying you?"

"I didn't say that." Another pause. "You should go."

"All right." Better not to push it, especially when Remy wasn't sure what she might need Argent for specifically. "Well, it was nice talking to you."

Argent inclined her head, possibly in agreement.

_Maybe if she didn't act like a statue, people wouldn't treat her like one_.

Still, Remy smiled and sailed on down the corridor.

As she circled around towards the landing and the front stairs, Remy thought she heard more people talking than just Clair With Green Hair and Mercutiblow. Which was potentially a good thing.

Sure enough, there was Eyebrows' wife sitting on the sofa being petted and pawed at by Remy's fellow hookers. She'd be expecting to see Pink Hair, innocently unaware that at this very moment the father of her child was playing hide the salami with him. And no one would dare tell her, so she'd be stubbornly waiting a long time.

Lilith's room was very conveniently located not far away from the landing. Remy knocked on the door and waited, chewing her lip.

"Well, if it isn't Little Miss Sodomy," Lilith sneered. "Sorry, there's no clients in here for you to steal today. Try putting on a pair of pants and impersonating your brother. I'm sure no one would notice the difference."

_That's what you think._

She started to shut the door on Remy, but Remy exclaimed "Atros wants to see you downstairs!"

Lilith's eyes narrowed. Remy hoped she wouldn't be asked to prove it.

"I'll get dressed." The door slammed.

Remy wasn't completely sure that meant Lilith believed her, but this seemed about as good an answer as she was likely to get.

No point in sticking around. Remy went down the back stairs and found herself drifting over to the kitchen again.

Rory was scurrying around stirring things, tasting things, lifting lids and occasionally squinting at books or cards that Remy was pretty sure were filled with notes in Rory's less than elegant scrawl. He'd always had his own methods for escaping.

It was cute, the way he muttered reassurances to himself in between reading out instructions, and the way he screwed up his face in concentration whenever he tasted something, and the way he'd swipe up drips and spills with his little finger and absently lick his finger later.

Remy thought about coming up behind Rory and kissing the nape of his neck, wrapping her arms around him. But she knew he'd startle badly, and probably lash out in fear and anger, and it would only upset him, which was the last thing she wanted.

It was true. She _couldn't_ stand the idea of him being hurt the way she'd been hurt. But nobody had ever asked Remy what she wanted.

Nobody but Rory.

_When I find out who did this to you, I'm going to make them suffer. I promise._

(Not that she didn't have her suspicions. But Remy had learned it was better to be certain than to make assumptions, however clear cut they might seem to her.)

She watched Rory for a long while.

_"-and I'm not just going to stand by_ _and let you_ _RUIN MY MARRIAGE!!"_

The sudden shriek had come from the front hall, predictably enough. If Rory had heard it, he was doing a good job of tuning out. With some regret, Remy turned away and headed for the skirmish.

"I'm not ruining anything, you spoiled little ninny," Lillbeth was saying, with a level of calm Remy hadn't known she possessed. "Your failing marriage is your business, not mine."

_"Liar!"_ Atros' wife shrieked. "I know you've been sleeping with my husband! I know you've been trying to take him away from me!"

"Yvette-" Claret began, taking hold of her arm, but Yvette shook her off.

"Believe me, little girl, he's never going to leave you for my sake, and I'm well aware of it." Lilith tossed her hair. "There's no affair. Your marriage is as secure as it ever was."

"She's telling the truth," Mercutio said mildly.

_No, she's just choosing her words carefully. It's still bullshit. You're only backing her up because it's more convenient than being honest.  
_

Remy glanced up and saw Argent on the landing, standing silently.

_Oh sure, Axeface almost murders my brother and you drag your heels, but someone fucking impugns the pimp's honor and suddenly it's all hands on deck, like there's even the slightest possibility this is going to escalate past name calling. No one around here even has the guts to break a nail._

"No, she's _not!"_ A tear ran down Yvette's cheek and Remy had to look away. "Do you think I'm stupid? Do you _all_ think I'm too childish to realize what happens here? I know there's a reason Xanthe would rather be here than at home, getting ready for the baby, _our_ baby, and it's not because of the interior decorating! It's because of _Lilith!"_

Lieonus had crept into the room at some point, and he looked even whiter than usual as he stared at Yvette.

_Go figure, the shemale's got a conscience. Maybe he'll grow some balls and tell Eyebrows to keep it in his pants._

"Linneus," Yvette pleaded, "you're on my side, right? You _live_ here, you've seen how different he's been lately! I'm not making this up!"

"It's not my fault he doesn't love you," Lilith cut in before Linneus could respond. "You're not making yourself any more attractive throwing tantrums."

Yvette whirled on her. "So you _admit you're sleeping with my husband!"  
_

"Actually, she didn't," Linneus said quietly. "Listen, Yvette, this is only making you upset. Why don't you go out to the garden and I'll make you some tea?"

_"I don't want tea!"_ Yvette screamed. "I want you to stop _lying_ to me, Linneus! I thought you were my _friend!"_

"That's enough, Yvette."

Atros was at the top of the stairs, Argent at his side.

"X-Xanthe?" Yvette faltered.

"If you have concerns about my behavior, I urge you to discuss it with me. In private."

"But I never _see_ you anymore!"

"Well, neither do I!" Lilith snapped.

Yvette glared at her. "Xanthe, I know you've been having an affair. Tell me this… this _hussy_ isn't the reason why you 'work late' all the time! Go ahead, tell me I'm wrong!"

"You're wrong," Atros said coldly. "I'm not sleeping with Lilith. Once again you've made a fool of yourself, Yvette."

"But I-"

"This is a place of business. _My_ business. Do you really think I'd be so idiotic?"

Remy glanced at Linneus. As usual, his face didn't tell any tales, but there was an unfocused quality to his eyes that made Remy deeply uncomfortable.

_I wonder if Eyebrows even gave him a choice._

"I… I'm sorry, Xanthe," Yvette was crying now, and it was all Remy could do to push down her disgust. "It… it's just with the baby, everything's been-"

"If the pregnancy is the root of your hysteria, see a doctor. Otherwise remain at home if you're not capable of acting like a lady in public." Atros turned away. "Lilith, I believe you have an appointment to prepare for, as do you, Mercutio. Claret, I need you in my office to review this month's expenses. The rest of you, return to whatever you were doing. The show is over."

Remy smiled. _Not for me it's not._

As everyone wandered away, Remy sidled up to Yvette, and slipped her hand into Yvette's.

"I'm sorry," Remy offered.

"I'm… I'm so embarrassed… I've been so stupid…"

"Don't say that." Yvette looked up, blinking tears out of her red-rimmed eyes, and Remy gave her a shy little smile. "Hey, you want to go someplace a little more private and talk about it?"

"I'm not sure… I mean, that's very nice of you, but Xanthe wouldn't be pleased if I kept you from working." Yvette scrubbed at her eyes.

_Oh for fuck's sake._ Remy glanced around for show and squeezed Yvette's hand. "Do you see any customers around here?"

Yvette giggled. "I suppose not."

Possibly because it hadn't always been a whorehouse, there were quite a few rooms that never seemed to get any use upstairs. Remy had done some exploring when she was bored and stir-crazy, and now she had just the room in mind to set Bride of Pimp's mind at ease.

"Oh! This is Xanthe's father's office! I can't even remember the last time I was in here!"

Well, all right, she hadn't planned for that, but how the hell was she supposed to have known?

Remy closed the door behind them, tuning out Yvette's pointless babbling. She had to do this right. If she fucked it up, she'd never get another chance.

But that wasn't going to happen.

"You were right, you know." Remy leaned against the door and watched Yvette freeze in place. "Your husband is having an affair. We're all supposed to act like it's not happening, but they're not even subtle about it. I hear them going at it all the time."

"Why are you telling me this?" Yvette whispered.

"Because I hate lying." Remy made her face go soft, and stepped towards her. "You deserve to know you're not crazy, Yvette. That's why… I had to tell you. I'm sorry."

Yvette buried her face in her hands. "I _knew_ it. I knew it had to be her. I mean, I knew I… I know he didn't marry me because he loved me. But I thought… I thought, if we really got to know each other, if we did all the things other married couples did… if we had a _baby_ …"

Remy closed the distance and put her arms around the crying woman, and made sure she didn't cringe when Yvette buried her wet nose in Remy's hair, thankfully not quite touching her neck. _Arms tight, rub the back a few times… let her wail it out until she's ready to talk again._

_If I were Rory I'd probably have her eating out of my hand already._

"…but now he won't even _touch_ me! He says it's not good for the baby but I went to the doctor and I _know_ that's not true, I'm not that far along!"

Remy paused.

Yvette pulled back, face a little pink. "I mean, you know about all of that, don't you? After all, you're a…"

"Whore?" Remy said dryly.

Yvette clapped her lacy gloved hands over her mouth. "Don't say that! That's an awful word. And Daddy says it's a very respectable business nowadays. You're a _courtesan."_

_I don't give a fuck what you call me._ "So, are you asking my respectable professional advice?"

"I'd really appreciate it," Yvette said earnestly. "I mean, I've never been with anyone besides Xanthe. If I'm going to compete with an experienced courtesan, I at least need to know what I'm up against, don't I?"

"Well…" Remy contemplated the most polite possible way to discuss this amusingly sordid subject. "You know, there _are_ ways he could… touch you… without worrying about the baby being affected."

Yvette frowned. "I'm not talking about touches on the hand, you know!"

Remy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I know. Sex isn't just making babies."

Somehow she hadn't been expecting Yvette's blank look.

"He doesn't have to put it in you," Remy clarified.

Yvette wrinkled her nose. "Well, I don't want to just watch him and his right hand."

Remy was beginning to wonder why Yvette even missed fucking. "Are you telling me he's never touched you anywhere else that you liked?"

"That's not true!" Yvette put her hands on her hips. "I thought you were going to advise me, not interrogate me! Now, explain what you're talking about!"

Remy smiled, mostly so she'd remember not to lose her temper. "There's so many different kinds of pleasures a man and a woman can share." _Fuck me, I sound like Mercutio._ "You could use your hand on him, or he could use his on you. Or he could use his mouth…"

"Oh!" Yvette flushed, but didn't step back. "How… would he do that?"

The woman was almost trembling, Remy observed. _Good sign, but don't overplay your hand. Let the tension build._

Remy tilted her head, as if only just beginning to have an idea. "Do you want me to show you?"

"Yes." Yvette nodded determinedly and grabbed Remy's hand. "Please do."

Remy smiled, and glanced around the room. "It's probably easiest if you get on that desk over there."

_Gives you the authentic Sex With The Pimp experience, too.  
_

Yvette perched herself on the desk and stared expectantly at Remy like some kind of dimwitted human pelican. "What now?"

_Now, you have to believe I want you._

_Which means I need a better mental image._

Remy approached the desk, and put her hands on either side of Yvette's thighs. If she stared deep into Yvette's wide eyes, she could almost imagine they were green instead of blue. "First, let's test out your kissing technique."

If she had to guess, Remy would have assumed that Yvette's kisses would be sloppy and overeager, or else prim and prudish. But evidently she'd gotten _something_ out of being married to a man that sold other people's bodies for a living, so good for her or whatever.

Remy pulled back, and smiled reassuringly. Yvette smiled back. "That's fine. Nothing wrong there. Now… which makes you most comfortable, when your husband touches you on the thighs or the breasts?"

She was fairly sure Atros did neither, but best to leave room for some delusion.

"Honestly, these days I hate having just about _anything_ touch these." Yvette gestured vaguely at her breasts. "It's supposed to be normal for the pregnancy but it's just awful!"

_Sympathetic face._ Remy rested one hand on Yvette's left thigh. "Have you seen a doctor?"

"He says it's normal. Xanthe doesn't trust the doctor's opinion, but my Daddy and I agree Xanthe doesn't trust anybody, so I'm not too worried. It's not like he has a suggestion for another doctor to see instead."

Remy raised her eyebrows. "Then what's he trying to say?"

"I don't know." Yvette sighed. "He can be so _difficult_. Linneus would tell you that too! I know he thinks he's really trying to do something with this place, and it's true I don't know that much about business, but…"

"Isn't he a good businessman?"

Yvette hesitated. "Well…" She glanced around, and smiled. In an undertone, she continued, "Actually Daddy says if it was up to the Atros family this place would have gone under long ago. I think Xanthe's doing a pretty good job, but Daddy says his father used to gamble away half of his profits and it's a lot of debt for one man to try and get out from under."

_Interesting._ "Then who is it up to?"

"Huh?"

Remy reminded herself to be patient and sweet and all that other girly shit. "You said 'if it was up to the Atros family.' Is Atros not the sole owner of the Teahouse?"

Yvette shook her head. "Nope! Daddy co-owns and helps out financially. He has veto power over Xanthe's decisions, since he technically owns more than Xanthe does, but he's never actually used it as far as I know."

_Very, very interesting._ "Then does that mean your father could make a sale without Xanthe's approval?"

"Probably." Yvette swung her legs impatiently. "What comes next? Obviously I know what kissing is. You said something about thighs?"

Remy made a mental note to remember that and smiled. _Now, how would Rory seduce her?_ "Well, first I should probably see them."

Yvette hauled up her skirts without the slightest hesitation. Remy had to give her points for enthusiasm. "Okay. Now what?"

Remy contemplated angles for a moment. "Can you lie down? That'll make it easier to show you. And probably most enjoyable."

"With my skirts up?" Yvette wrinkled her nose. "It feels like I'm at the doctor's office again, but all right, if that's what's going to work best." She glanced back at the desk, apparently deciding just flopping back wouldn't be the best idea, and swung her legs over to the side, carefully maneuvering herself back so she was able to lie across the desk sideways rather than lengthwise. "Can you get me a pillow or something?"

Remy fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Sure. Get comfy."

A real pillow would mean ceding territory and leaving the room, however briefly, which would also mean upping the odds that someone else would notice the room was being used. (Remy was absolutely confident nobody would notice either of them weren't around)

So instead she glanced around and, seeing nothing pillow-like, pulled down a couple of her own petticoats. Rolled up in one big ball they were _almost_ like a pillow. "Here. Put your head on this."

Yvette looked a little pinker than usual. "It's… warm."

"Should it not be?" Remy smiled, resting a hand on Yvette's belly.

Yvette smiled back, nervously. "This isn't going to hurt much, is it? With Xanthe, sometimes… I know men can't help themselves, but since you're not a man…"

"I'm not going to enter you at all, so no, there shouldn't be any pain." Utterly unsurprising that Atros was the sort of man that saw a pained face as proof of his masculinity. She was there for his pleasure, not her own, after all. "I promise."

Yvette's undergarments were as frilly as the rest of her clothes. Remy pulled them down slowly, as not to spook her, with some reassuring touches to her calves and thighs. Nothing less relaxing than telling someone to relax already, so better to subtly guide her to that point.

When she was confident Yvette's legs weren't tensed up, Remy inserted herself between them. _Here goes nothing._

At the first touch of Remy's tongue, Yvette giggled. "That tickles!"

Remy pushed aside her annoyance and ignored her.

_Work your way there._ _Slowly, that's what's important_.

_Don't get arrogant, and don't think about what_ you _like because you're not normal._

What would Rory think?

It was an idle thought, but once she'd had it, she couldn't let it go. It rippled through her whole body and warmed her from the inside. _Rory._

Rory wouldn't be happy, but that was too fucking bad. She'd given him a chance to do things his way.

_I didn't invite you this time, so you can pretend it never happened if it makes you feel any better, little brother._

Besides, he might not be happy about it, but he'd probably get off on the idea all the same.

Okay fine, maybe not.

Rory had an imagination, but this wasn't necessarily the sort of thing he'd dream up.

And the men Remy had known who were into pressuring women to fuck in front of them usually had hang-ups about getting fucked by other men.

Chances were Rory would only get off on this sort of thing if he thought Remy was enjoying herself.

Yvette was only just starting to get wet, but judging by her squealing and squirming she was enjoying herself anyway.

And Remy was doing what she'd sold herself for, just like Rory.

Well. Maybe not _just_ like Rory. He probably never got to do this act, specifically.

Too bad, really. Women were always his strong suit. Rory might have charmed his way out of this shithole if he'd ever gotten a shot at female clients.

Just look at that one girl, Cla… Parakeet Brain. Rory obviously wasn't even making an effort there and yet she was falling all over herself to jerk him off with her huge tits.

"That's… that's really… keep going!"

Anyway. Priorities.

Seeing as Yvette had given up the whole modesty charade, Remy took hold of her thighs and angled her a bit, partially to at least give the impression that she was muff diving with some renewed intensity, and mostly to find a position that was a little more comfortable for Remy herself to sustain.

Her tongue was getting kind of tired and Yvette seemed to have fully warmed up to the idea, so Remy licked around Yvette's clit one last time before tilting her head to try for some sucking.

Were _most_ women this slow to get wet, or was Remy just built like a water park compared to the rest? It was slightly unnerving but at the very least the little tremors in Yvette's legs didn't seem to be fake, so might as well assume the best.

"Ooooh…"

_Hurry the fuck up, will you?_

It occurred to Remy that it was very possible Yvette had no idea what an orgasm felt like. And if Yvette wouldn't be able to recognize her own climax, how the hell could Remy identify it?

_Good thing it's not actually vital to my plans to make her come._

Remy raised her head and made eye contact with Yvette, who was all sweaty and gasping. "Tell Daddy to sell Lilith to another brothel."

Yvette's big blue eyes widened. "W-what?"

But Remy had no intention of letting her think it over. Slipping one hand down to what little local wetness was available, she dipped her fingers in and grazed her knuckles over Yvette's clit. Yvette cried out, and Remy smiled. "Everything's in your control, isn't it? She's a business asset, and you're his wife. If you want her gone, she's gone."

"Yes!" Yvette gasped. "Oh, yes!"

_Now we're getting somewhere._

Remy trailed her finger around Yvette's hole. "Even if Atros doesn't listen to you, your Daddy does, isn't that right? He'd sell whoever you wanted to sell, free whoever you wanted to free…"

"More!" Yvette demanded.

She'd heard the message, anyway.

Remy lowered her head and flicked her tongue, not very fast, but at a steady rate she knew she could maintain for a little while.

Too bad they hadn't been able to use Atros' office. Imagining the look on Eyebrows' face if he found his pregnant wife getting eaten out all over his paperwork was delightful.

"Oh! _Oh!_ Don't stop!" Yvette yanked on Remy's hair so hard Remy briefly saw stars.

Remy whipped up her head and snarled _"Don't do that!"_

She realized her mistake when Yvette's face fell, her pink cheeks going pale.

_Don't wobble your stupid lip at me, you're not my brother._

Remy forced a smile. "It hurts, you know. Sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you."

Yvette pouted and Remy had to actively push aside her disgust. "You scared me! But that's all right, I forgive you." She pushed herself up into a sitting position. "That was _amazing_. I feel like I should give you a tip!" Yvette giggled.

Remy pretended to find that amusing, and stood up. "If I've managed to help you at all, that's all the satisfaction I need."

Yvette reached for Remy's hands, and Remy managed not to flinch as Yvette squeezed them. "I appreciate you being honest with me, Remy. And… thank you, for the suggestion. About Lilith." A determined look came into Yvette's eyes. "I'm not going to let her steal my husband!"

"It was my pleasure." Remy carefully drew her hands away, and blew Yvette a kiss. "Let me know how it turns out, will you?"

"I will!" Yvette promised.

So that was that. If Lilith was sold, it meant that Remy didn't have to go through Atros to get her brother's contract. _If_ Lilith was sold.

Remy went back to her room to wash her face. She'd had enough of people looking at her and seeing what they wanted to see for a while.

Other than that, she didn't really have a plan outside a vague idea of sleep, but that idea went in the shitter the moment she heard a crash from outside the window.

_Some dumbasses are fighting in the alley, I guess._

"Fuck!"

Remy glanced out the window just in time to see Axis stumbling to his feet. He looked… like even more of a hot mess than Remy remembered.

She didn't recognize the other man in the alley, but then again she couldn't really see his face, just his blue hair and fancy looking clothes.

Huh. Was that the famous Rhys?

"The shock on your big stupid face almost convinces me you actually don't know where my sister is. Congratulations, kitten." The man took a step closer. "You really should stick to people your own size. Bullying shorties isn't a good look for you."

"What the fuck is your _problem?!"_ Axis screamed. "That little shit hit me first, not that it's any of your goddamn business!"

"You seriously expect me to believe a scrawny teenager hit you hard enough to swell up your eye?"

Axis glared at Rhys. "Your _friend_ Lord Fruitcake fucking decked me, asshole. And told me to stay away from his fairy bitch like he was some kind of fucking _parent_ or-"

"Shut up."

Remy wished she could see Rhys' expression. Axis looked about as shocked as she was at the interruption.

"Did you just tell me to-"

"Keep your mouth shut, yes, because absolutely nothing worthwhile happens when you open it. You got just what you deserved, _Axis_ , and if you don't want to go on being the punching bag of all of Ivore, you might start by admitting it. All you are is a brainless piece of ass that fucked his way into a comfortable position and then ran away when things didn't go exactly the way you wanted. In fact, you're so colossally stupid that you picked a fight with the only person in that brothel you never should have touched. And you expect me to feel sorry for you? You _sicken_ me."

"Okay, now I'm getting fucking angry." Axis stormed over to Rhys, only to have his hand grabbed and twisted behind his back. _"Ow!_ You sadistic fuck!"

"You are _dirt_ , Axis, do you hear me? You are scum on the bottom of my sister's shoe. You're a primitive beast in the shape of a man."

"You're going to… break my fucking… arm…"

"The sooner you realize this, the sooner you'll stop feeling jealous of people like them. And don't think I didn't notice you seething with it in the palace. It's pointless, Axis. I know you. You're even filthier than I am."

With that, Rhys shoved Axis to the ground.

Axis whimpered and clutched his arm. "What… the _fuck…_ "

Rhys walked around Axis to stand over his head, and that was how Remy saw enough to realize that Rhys was shaking.

"Sick fucking queer!" Axis hissed. "I'm not like you!"

"Did I say you were?" Rhys kicked dirt into Axis' face. "Whatever else I might be, I am your king. You'll never be anything but a filthy whore."

"Hey, I _like_ my life! At least I did until you showed up!"

Rhys was silent for a moment, as Axis attempted to push himself upright with his good arm.

"Who the fuck would I be jealous of, anyway? Whiny little twink pussies? I don't need Lord Cocksucker grabbin' my- _FUCKING HELL!"  
_

Rhys had grabbed Axis by the hair and slammed his foot down on what must have been Axis' balls, going by the way he screamed. Remy pulled back from the window, sick to her stomach.

"Don't talk about him like that." Pause. "Did you hear me? I said _don't talk about him like that!"_

Remy covered her ears and sat on the floor. _If he doesn't stop, he's going to… he's going to… he's crazy, Axis, shut the fuck up and let him go..._

_"Apologize!"_

_"Fuck you!"_ Another scream.

 " ** _Apologize!"_**

"I'm… I'm sorry… that I offended your dainty fucking sensibilities… asshole…"

Remy flinched, but there wasn't another scream.

"You know what? You're not even worth the trouble. What I ever saw in you… you're just a loud, obnoxious idiot who has issues with authority."

"And you're… a spiteful fucking cunt…"

A laugh. "Oh, Alice. I didn't even think you'd _learned_ words like that." Rhys's voice paused. "I meant spiteful, by the way."

Apparently Axis had learned his lesson, because there was no reply that Remy could hear.

"Well. Send my regards to the other gutter rats. And if you do see Reed, let him know his _king_ is looking for him, will you? For your sake, I hope you don't see my sister."

His footsteps sounded like thunder.

Remy had to get out of this room. It was Axis's room, not hers, and he was welcome to it.

She didn't know where she was going, but she was going.

There was no one in the front hall, which was a relief. Remy was tempted to curl up on the sofa and go to sleep right then and there, but she couldn't relax, so she just put up her feet and grabbed the book that was sitting nearby, just in case she had to look like she was doing something.

Rory was probably still in the kitchen.

The book looked like the sort of thing he'd like, poetry and all that shit. Remy didn't really understand it, but she tried all the same.

 

_Thou who abruptly as a knife_

_Didst come into my heart; thou who,_

_A demon horde into my life,_

_Didst enter, wildly dancing, through_

_The doorways of my sense unlatched_

_To make my spirit thy domain—_

_Harlot to whom I am attached_

_As convicts to the ball and chain…_

 

Poetry. Too many words to say almost nothing. No wonder Rory liked it.

At least this stuff was _mean_ and not the flowery overly idealistic crap he used to read that was all about putting lovers on pedestals.

 

_As corpses-_

 

The doorbell rang.

Remy rolled her eyes and ignored it.

"OPEN DOOR! SACHA KNOW IS BUSINESS HOURS!"

Remy flipped off the door with both hands, only to quickly put her hands down when the door burst open to reveal a grumpy looking… man?

"You again. Sacha swear you get girlier since last time."

"I _am_ a girl," Remy said, irritated. "Have we met?"

"Sacha confused." He _sounded_ like a man, at least. "Still, is unimportant. Where Gilder?"

_What the fuck is a Gilder?_ Remy frowned. "What?"

"WHERE. GILDER."

All right, she probably had that coming. "I don't know! Yell at someone else, will you?"

The man who appeared to be referring to himself in the third person as Sacha scowled. "Gilder not at other whorehouses today, or any other day for long while. Always this place. You take all Gilder money now. Not… not good for business."

Okay, so Gilder was a person. That was something. "If he's here, he's with someone else. Do you know who he likes?"

"Likes?" Sacha's scowl deepened. "How Sacha know who Gilder like? Not mind reader. Gilder pay for…" Sacha gave up his losing battle with the English language and spat out some foreign word Remy'd never heard before continuing "…with pink man. _Never_ shut up about pink man! Extremely annoying. Girl understand, yes?"

"Surprisingly, yes, I do." Remy leaned back. "Gilder wouldn't happen to be a huge hairy man with booze on his breath and a ring in his ear, would he?"

_"Where Gilder?!"_

And she was going to take that as an affirmative response.

"Ooh, guess what I found?"

Mercutio was standing by the piano, a struggling rodent in his grasp.

_"Mouse!"_ Sacha looked furious. "You let go now!"

"Believe me, this wasn't the weasel I expected to find myself stroking when I got up this morning, if you know what I mean…" Mercutio held up the rodent (who hissed) and frowned at it. "Weasel? Ferret? What are you, furry friend?"

"You let go." There was a pistol in Sacha's hand. _"Now."_

_Flintlock pistol_ , Remy thought faintly. _Easy to conceal under that huge coat. Not particularly accurate, unless… it could be a dueling pistol, with that kind of barrel. Which should mean less shots, but.. how many other weapons has he got under there?_

Mercutio dropped the rat.

Sacha lowered the pistol.

"Now." The rodent scurried up Sacha's arm. "Gilder here? If not, he will be, yes?"

"No need to get excited, darling." Mercutio smoothed back his hair, apparently fine with letting a lunatic pretend he hadn't just pointed a fucking gun at them. "I don't make a habit of memorizing other people's schedules, but I imagine you're right."

"Good." Sacha tucked away his pistol and crossed his arms. "Sacha wait."

_You're a fool, Sacha. This isn't going to make him love you._

Remy would have happily pointed a gun at anyone, even herself, if it meant Rory would love her like she loved him. But she knew it would only make him pull even farther away from her. That was why he'd left in the first place, wasn't it? Because she scared him.

"Delightful," Mercutio said. "My mornings have been so barren without open hostility."

Well, whatever. No matter what it was she'd done to repulse him, she couldn't undo it. And if he didn't want her, that was the end of it. The last thing Remy wanted was for him to feel like he had to lie to her.

The doorbell rang again.

Remy glanced at Mercutio.

"Don't look at me, darling, I'm not supposed to answer the door." Mercutio held up his hands. "Apparently I scare people."

Sacha glared at them both. "Sacha not doorman!"

Fortunately for everyone present, one of the maids hurried into the hall (Tintel? Tonsil? _Tinsel_ , that was her name) and meekly dragged the door open.

It was blond curls guy again, from the palace. Whatever the fuck his name was. He looked very tired.

"My apologies if I'm interrupting your business. I am Zephyr Langston, Captain of the King's Guard." Well, there it was. "Is His Majesty here?"

An incredibly awkward silence followed.

_God, he might as well have just come out and said 'I've lost the king, have you found him?' This kingdom is a fucking joke._

"Not as far as I'm aware." Mercutio winked at Zephyr, whose cheeks reddened.

Clearly Rory missed his calling. If things had gone just a little differently, he could've been a royal babysitter.

"He was outside before, but he's gone now," Remy said, because it was true.

"Is that so?" Zephyr failed to hide his frustration. "Well, thank you for the information. Did he happen to mention his destination?"

"He didn't tell me anything." Remy put on a sympathetic face. "I'm sorry. It was Axis he came for, and he doesn't live here anymore."

If they'd been playing poker, Zephyr wouldn't have won a single hand. "Axis. Of course. Thank you." He spun on his heel and stalked out as though Remy had just dropped a dead rat in his hands.

"Doesn't anybody who comes here want to actually pay for anything anymore?" Mercutio grumbled. "How about you, my pronoun-challenged friend? Care for some fun?"

Sacha sniffed. "Sacha no pay for…" he spat out what Remy assumed was a word in his preferred language "…with strange man. Waste of money, waste of time. Not necessary. Never understand why Gilder need." He muttered something else foreign under his breath.

"I should probably be offended by that, but I've always loved a challenge." Mercutio waggled his eyebrows, but left it at that when Sacha simply stared at him. Remy couldn't tell if it was her own mood or if he actually was lower on energy than usual.

Fortunately, she didn't really care.

Remy stood up. "I'm hungry," she muttered, by way of explanation, and walked off.

"We'll miss your sparkling wit!" Mercutio called.

_Yeah, yeah, fuck you too. Even if you'd enjoy it._

Without really meaning to, Remy headed towards the kitchen. Rory would kick her out, of course, but she never felt like she was fading into the background when he was in a room with her. Even if that green-haired bimbo was chattering at him, Rory would _see_ Remy. Sometimes, like now, that was a relief. Other times it was terrible.

He'd still be making a mountain of cupcakes, or some shit like-

Rory was by the window, bent over, his shoulders shaking.

It was probably just some weird cooking thing that Remy didn't…

She could hear him sobbing quietly, so quietly that she knew he hadn't meant anyone to hear.

Remy's first instinct was to run, to get away and let him have the privacy he clearly wanted, but her feet wouldn't move.

It wasn't really happening. It was just something he was doing for attention, just something that… just something she hadn't been meant to see. He'd hate her if she saw. He'd hit her again for seeing him in a moment of weakness like this.

He'd hate her if she ran.

He was crying, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She'd seen him cry before, of course. He could cry at the drop of a hat, she knew it. But that was different. That wasn't… it wasn't…

Her head was aching, and she didn't know why. She didn't think she could have moved if she wanted to.

He was so far away. Not just… it wasn't that she couldn't reach out and touch him, because she could, if she walked through the doorway, though she was afraid to, because he might be angry with her, and she didn't think she could bear having him hit her just now, it would be too much, far too much.

Somehow, he'd slipped out of her reach. She'd always liked that about him, that he was so close, always there if she wanted him, the only person she'd ever been able to rely on like that, the only person that would just _hold_ her and not ask any questions or make fun of her or tell her she was a stupid bratty little girl that cried over nothing.

But now he was there and she was here, and even when she hadn't known where he was, he'd never felt so distant.

She remembered it, the first time they'd been separated.

Father had dragged her down the stairs, because he'd _had_ to drag her because she didn't want to go. She didn't remember why she'd felt that way, but she'd never forgotten it, the way it had seemed like the whole world was ending.

She hadn't remembered Rory, not really, but she remembered the hand that fit hers perfectly slipping out of her grasp for the last time.

Sometimes it felt like she'd spent her whole life searching for that hand.

"Please," Remy whispered.

He didn't hear her, of course.

"Rory, I'm sorry," Remy whispered. "I'm so sorry."

_Rory, I love you._

_I've always loved you._

_I never..._

Her eyes blurred.

"Please don't cry, Rory," she gasped, and he spun around.

"R… Remy?" Rory stared at her.

She scrubbed her face, but it was too late.

"Are you… crying?"

"No!" Remy buried her face in her hands. "Shut up, I'm not! It's your fault, for being such a-" She bit her lip, hard. " _You_ were crying."

Rory rolled his eyes. "We were both crying, happy? We can be the crybaby twins."

Remy snorted, and saw a flicker of a smile on Rory's face. "That's stupid."

"I know." Rory straightened up and gave her a weird look. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Remy muttered. She never knew how to say the right thing.

"I've just… never seen you like that." Rory scrutinized her.

"Weak?" Remy bit out.

"It's not weakness!" Rory snapped. His face softened before Remy could even process his anger. "It's just… different. You shouldn't be ashamed to show your feelings."

Remy gritted her teeth. "That's not the fucking issue."

"Fine, then-"

"Stop it! Stop trying to make _me_ feel better!" Remy burst out, wanting to tear her hair out. "You're not all right, I _know_ you're not and I can't stand it when you lie to me!"

Rory's face was stony and still. "I haven't lied."

"It's not…" Remy struggled desperately for words. "It's not what you're _saying_ , it's what you're _not_ saying! I know you, Rory. You don't just start sobbing in the middle of the kitchen for shits and giggles. Something is _hurting you!"_

Rory let out a short, humorless laugh. "It's stupid. You're going to laugh at me if I tell you what it was about."

"Please, just tell me!" Remy begged.

Rory exhaled, and looked down at the floor. "I was baking bread, and the smell… it reminded me of the baker I used to visit with Cook when I was a kid. And… suddenly I was crying."

Remy raised her eyebrows. "That's it?"

"That's it." Rory shrugged. "I told you it was stupid. I haven't been sleeping that well."

_You never sleep well_.

He didn't _seem_ like he was lying. There was no fucking way that was the whole reason he had just broken down like that, but… Remy could believe that Rory believed it was, at least.

Music exploded from the hallway, and they both jumped.

"Mercutio's playing the piano again," Rory muttered, glancing at the doorway. "He's been doing that a lot lately, don't you think?"

"You're trying to change the subject," Remy pointed out.

Rory shrugged again, not quite meeting her eyes. "It's embarrassing. Besides, I know you hate it when I cry."

_It's me I hate, not you._ Almost without thinking, she approached him. "That isn't the only reason, is it?"

Slowly, Rory looked at her. "No."

There was something horribly familiar in that look. What it was, Remy didn't know, but it cut her to the quick.

Remy touched her hand to his cheek and felt Rory shiver under her fingers. For a moment, she thought he was trembling, but his eyes held hers steadily, his jaw set with something like determination.

"Do you really want to know?" Rory said, softly, so softly Remy never would have heard him over the piano if she hadn't been standing so close.

"Yes," Remy whispered.

Rory closed his eyes briefly. "I'm… I'm sordid, and foul, and…"

"Whatever happened, I don't care," Remy said fiercely, cupping his cheek. "You're still my brother."

Rory's eyes burned. "No matter what he does to me… no matter what I think I want or don't want… I still enjoy it."

All the energy drained out of her body.

Rory's hand closed around Remy's wrist. "See? _You're_ the one who doesn't understand. I'm his. There is no way out."

"That's not-"

He pulled her closer, so close she could feel his breath on his face, his fingers still tight around her wrist. "And you know what the worst part is?"

Rory's voice was tight, controlled, but his eyes…

She couldn't bring herself to answer him, too afraid that if she opened her mouth she'd sob from the sadness in her brother's eyes.

"When I'm with him, I think of you."

Remy stared at him.

The music stopped, and Rory dropped her wrist, visibly swallowing.

She didn't know what to say.

"Go," Rory said roughly. "Get out."

Remy shook her head. She couldn't let him see that she was shaking, couldn't let him hear how weak and fucking _useless_ she felt.

"I said _get out_ , Remy! Don't make me hurt you again!"

Remy shook her head again, more emphatically, but found she'd taken a step back instinctively.

_"Gilder lie!"_

The sudden scream sent Remy reeling backward, her hand brushing against the doorframe.

"What are you waiting for?" Rory snapped. "I told you to leave!"

So she did.

Before Remy could so much as _think_ her shoulder slammed into someone and they let out a girly little yelp.

It was Green Hair, blinking stupidly at her like her face was on fucking fire or something. Remy didn't feel like apologizing. It wasn't her fault Greenie had been in her way, and what did she know about anything anyway? If Remy opened her mouth she was going to start screaming or crying or something and then Birdbrain would try and fucking calm her down and Remy didn't need to be calmed down, she never needed to be calmed down, she was fucking fine and it was none of anyone's business what was in her head anyway because they didn't know her, and they'd never know her, because-

"That _hurt_ , you know!"

Remy bolted.

_It's not… it's not like I…_

_I never wanted this._

Upstairs, upstairs there were large rooms that she didn't belong in, and never would. She couldn't go there, people kicked in those doors and broke the locks, and no one had any privacy and she needed to be alone, to _hide_.

_I didn't do this._

_I wouldn't, I would never… I would never do that to you…_

The little room. The one Rory had dragged her into, where they'd lain on the bed and just been _together_ for a moment, like there was no else in the world.

The door even locked, sort of.

There weren't any windows, but that was practically a bonus at the moment. Absolutely nothing and no one to see her.

Remy slumped against the locked door and tried not to think of dragging her nails down her arms or clawing at her face or anything that seemed like it would be a relief now but afterwards… afterwards it wouldn't be in her control anymore, and that was not something she could bear.

_I don't want to watch you turn into me, Rory. I never…_

_You're my… you're my only…_

_He can't do this to you. I won't let him do this, I won't.  
_

Remy pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to keep her breathing steady.

_I already d… I didn't, I… I couldn't, it was…_

_It was out of my control._

Breathe.

_I can't let him get away with this, I won't, I…_

_I'll do what? Fucking poke him in the belly and say, oh please, Mr Rich Titled Shitface, won't you let me beat my tiny fists against your rock hard body until you sneeze? Grab a blunt instrument and aim for the balls? Snatch a cleaver and hack away at his bulging neck while he sleeps with his dick in my **brother**?_

_And then what, get us both killed?_

Breathe.

_No, he has to suffer. He has to want to pull the trigger himself._

_I have to destroy his peace of mind the way he's destroyed Rory's._

 Breathe.

  _I would… I would never do that to you, Rory._

 All she wanted was to kiss him, again and again, and hold him, and… and to tell him everything was going to be all right, and mean it.

 But it wasn't, so she couldn't. Lying would only make it worse.

What finally brought Remy out of despair was, as always, rage. Rage and hatred.

 She hated the man that hurt Rory. She hated the man that bought and branded him. She hated the assholes that mocked and belittled him. She hated the stupid fucking green haired girl that believed that was what love looked like.

 She hated herself, for never being good enough, never being strong enough.

 But there was only one person Remy could really control, and that was herself, so that was who she was going to have to rely on in the end.

_Even if it means..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Bathwater" by No Doubt.
> 
> The poem Remy reads part of is "The Vampire" by Charles Baudelaire, from _Bile And The Ideal_ as translated by George Dillon.
> 
> The original chapter five was so huge it was actually intimidating to edit, so after a lot of consideration I'm splitting it in two. So the next chapter will also be a Remy chapter, and will be up hopefully within the next couple months.


	6. You're A Viper And Love's A Fever

For days there was nothing.

No sign of Yvette, no conversations that went anywhere or gave Remy anything to hold over Lord Fuckface.

She thought there was no sign of Reed either, until she saw Mercutio sprawled out on a couch, giggling idiotically over a piece of paper.

"What is that?" Remy asked, trying to be polite. She'd been on her best behavior in front of people lately, just to keep them from looking too closely.

"A letter." Mercutio flapped it around and grinned at her. "Want to see?"

Remy imagined punching the smirk off his smug fucking face and covered her mouth. "Oh, I… I'm not sure I should, if it's not addressed to me."

"Oh come on, darling, live a little." Mercutio held the letter in front of him and began to read, in a cartoonishly pompous voice, _"Rory, I have sent for more bedsheets, as I will be requiring them, and am in the process of checking thread counts. Since I am going to the trouble of buying new sheets I certainly hope you will not be making too much of a mess on them-"_

The shock on Remy's face must have shown, but Mercutio only laughed and continued.

 _"Furthermore, I am purchasing a new wardrobe for you, which will be ready by the time you arrive. The little I have seen of your sartorial choices is an embarrassment and I have no wish to be embarrassed…_ my, the romance just rolls off the page, doesn't it?" Mercutio laughed again, and Remy shuddered.

"What does he mean?" Remy whispered. "That's… that's Lord Reed, isn't it? But why…?"

"You haven't heard?" Mercutio raised his eyebrows. "Lord Reed's been in negotiations to purchase Rory's contract. Apparently it's going along swimmingly."

Too late. Remy was too late.

Again.

No, that wasn't true. Rory was still here, and Remy wasn't giving up. Remy _never_ gave up.

"Why …thread counts?" Remy put her hand on the arm of the couch to keep it from shaking.

Mercutio snorted. "Weren't you a maid? The higher the thread count, the softer the fabric… and the more easily it tears." He waggled his eyebrows and Remy's stomach twisted.

"Mercutio!" It was Cl- Green Hair, stomping into the room with a pout. "Have you been stealing other people's mail again? That's a felony, you know!"

"It's not stealing if they leave them around for anyone to pick up, darling."

"Yes, it is!"

As they squabbled, Remy slipped away, heart pounding.

Negotiations. Negotiations, that was important. Negotiations meant there wasn't a date set, probably. Negotiations meant she had at least what, one, two more days? Still time to discover Lord Cockbreath's weak spots.

Bedsheets. New bedsheets. There was something there…

She had to get back up to her room, somewhere private, where she could think. Even if it wasn't really her room.

Maybe she could get another one. If Yvette delivered, and Lilith got sold off, then Remy could take her room, it hadn't looked so bad. Nobody would ever try and break down _her_ door, Remy was sure.

How many days had it been? How long did it take to sell an aging whore?

Had she actually left her door cracked open like this, or-

"Good, you're here."

Remy nearly leaped out of her goddamn skin before she processed that it was Rory's voice, and he was leaning against the wall in her room. "Fucking hell, can't you knock before entering like a normal person?"

Rory shrugged. "Since when do you care?"

Remy bit her lip, because he had her there.

"I'm sick of you avoiding me, Remy." There was nothing warm in Rory's eyes today. "I don't care if you think I'm a cowardly pathetic crybaby, I'm your brother and if I want to talk, you're going to listen."

What… exactly was he talking about?

"I don't think that," Remy muttered, looking for some place to sit down.

"You've always been terrible at lying to me," Rory said flatly.

"I'm not… I'm not lying, I… I know I've said things like that, but I don't… I don't think that."

"Then why won't you look me in the eye?"

Rory was angry. Why hadn't Remy realized he was angry?

His face was practically on fire with it, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly as he advanced on her. "You once told me I'd never understand you. Well, maybe that's true and maybe it isn't, but I understand a lot of things I didn't back then. I understand being called _slut_ and _whore_. I understand being laughed at and belittled for things you can't help, things you've never even thought to help. I understand being humiliated. I understand being-" Rory snatched her by the wrist and pulled her close "… _used."_

"That hurts!" Remy gasped, her voice small and awful.

"I understand that everything that's happened to me is because of my own decisions," Rory snarled, "and I know it's my own fault, but I _know_ you understand all of these things just as much as I do, Remy, so don't you _dare_ turn your back on me now!" His voice cracked as he shook her with his last words.

Remy wanted to speak, but there were so many thoughts and questions and fears raging in her mind she couldn't manage to string together a single sentence.

_Please… please don't hit me..._

She could feel him shuddering as he held her.

"It's not," Remy whispered.

Rory stared at her. "What?"

"Your fault." She swallowed. "It's not."

Rory shoved Remy away from him. "What do you know about it?"

Remy laughed, bitterly. "What did you just tell me? I know enough, and I know it wasn't your fault. And even if it were, somehow, it's not like it would matter. He _hurt you_. Have you already forgotten what I promised you, back in Catherine's house?"

Something dawned in his eyes, and Remy knew that he hadn't.

"He'll be sorry," she repeated.

"I thought you'd laugh," Rory said hoarsely.

"Why the _fuck_ would I laugh?!" Remy snapped, then regretted it. "Okay, I haven't… always been the nicest person."

Rory snorted.

"Yeah, I know, okay? I know." Remy rubbed her eyes. "Believe me, I sure as shit know. But when did I ever act like that was a joke to me?"

 _"This isn't some creepy child thing, is it?"_ Rory said mockingly. _"Ooh, or priest roleplay? Forgive me, oh lord-"_

"Fuck you, it's not the same!" She hated the tremor in her voice, hated the way her head was aching. "I told you before, I thought you _liked_ it."

"You believed what you wanted to believe." There it was again, that closed off remote expression, and it _wasn't fair._

Remy stormed up to her brother and poked him in the chest. "And what was I _supposed_ to think? You-" _abandoned me_ "…you _disappeared_ in the middle of the night, and the first thing I hear about you in _months_ is you're suddenly the most expensive piece of ass in town! I know you're not stupid enough to get tricked into a place like this, especially with that price tag!"

"Thanks," Rory said, with an edge of sarcasm.

"So fucking _excuse me_ for not instantly assuming you decided to whore yourself out because of some kind of bizarre sense of masochistic self-hatred!" Remy wanted to go on, but she… she wasn't sure what would come out of her mouth, and she had to keep the tears down.

Something had changed in Rory's face. "It made you sad, didn't it? Even when you thought I did it for fun."

"Of course it did!" Remy couldn't look at him, so she kicked a bottle that was lying on the floor.

"You know, you never actually told me. That it upset you, I mean."

_Fuck. Fuck, maybe I shouldn't have said that. He's going to remember it, and… and maybe that's not a bad thing._

"I've got no reason to be here but you," Remy said tightly. She dared to glance at Rory, and found him eying her thoughtfully.

After a long moment, Rory spoke. "You're right, I wasn't tricked. This… wasn't my first choice, but I did my research."

 _Clearly you should've done more_.

"No one wanted to hire me for a real job, and I don't know the first thing about gambling or stealing." Rory shrugged. "At least this way my ignorance had value."

"Yeah, to _creeps_ ," Remy burst out. "To people that only want you because you're young and easy!"

"So, people not like you?"

Remy's face burned. "That's… that's not what I'm talking about."

"Isn't it?" Rory smiled faintly, a smile that wasn't really a smile.

Remy had no idea what Rory was thinking, and it didn't sit right with her.

After a moment, Rory glanced at the couch next to him and sat down. He gestured for Remy to join him, but Remy hesitated.

"You've eaten everything I made," Rory said, as though he were just realizing it.

"Well, obviously, what else would I eat?" Remy eyed Rory suspiciously. "Are you fishing for a compliment or something?"

Rory let out a short laugh. "Just curious. Did you like the eggplant parmesan?"

"It was fine," Remy said immediately, because she couldn't actually remember what that was at first. "Very… eggplant. And parmesan."

Rory looked like he was about to laugh at her, so before he could Remy snapped, "It was the one with the tomato sauce, right? And the cookies with the nuts on top came after."

Rory blinked. "That's… right."

"You don't have to look so surprised about it," Remy muttered. The cookies she definitely remembered, because they'd been surprising. She assumed they would be hard, but when she'd bit in they were all soft inside, and chewy. "What was in those cookies, anyway?"

"Pignoli cookies," Rory said, unhelpfully. "Pine nut cookies? They're Veronese. They've got marzipan in them… you don't know what marzipan is? A kind of almond paste, basically."

"Yeah, well, they were good," Remy said, because it was true.

"They tasted like failure," Rory muttered.

Remy sat down next to him, and touched his arm. "You're not a failure, Rory."

To her surprise, Rory leaned into her touch and brushed his mouth against her cheek in a brief but unmistakable kiss. Before Remy could so much as catch her breath, he kissed her neck. "I'm a terrible gambler." Another kiss, lower. "I've got no idea how to pick someone's pocket." Another kiss, lower. "But I'm good at this."

He offered her a sly smile and Remy just stared at him, lost for words.

Rory's hand landed on Remy's thigh and suddenly he was kissing her, _really_ kissing her. She hadn't even known he _knew_ how to kiss like that.

And maybe it was because she couldn't help thinking of who he must have been practicing with, but… instead of being turned on or even excited Remy just felt… numb.

Rory pushed her backwards onto the couch and then sat back, half straddling her, and began to pull off his shirt in a motion so blatantly erotic that for a moment she thought she must be dreaming.

_This… this isn't…_

Rory threw his shirt on the floor and tilted his head in that same strange, unfamiliar expression.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Remy blurted out.

"Because I want you." Rory crawled up her body, slowly, deliberately, like a jungle cat approaching its prey.

_His eyes…_

Remy turned her head and Rory's hand slammed down by her ear, startling her so badly for a moment her head spun.

"Look at me!" Rory's breath was hot and he was on top of her, so why did she feel so cold? "Look… look at me…"

There was her brother, in those desperately needy eyes. Remy knew him, knew he would never hurt her. He wouldn't cover her mouth, wouldn't tell her to scream all she wanted, wouldn't slap her till she shut up, wouldn't just do what he wanted without any regard for what she said or did, wouldn't- he wouldn't. He wouldn't.

And then his eyelids lowered and he licked her neck.

Remy shuddered, couldn't help herself.

"Don't you want to see?" Remy's brother had never sounded like that, low and flirtatious. "What a whore I am?"

"No," Remy whispered.

His mouth closed on hers, and Remy _wanted_ to kiss him back, wanted to believe in him, wanted to embrace him with all her heart and just _hold_ him because this… _this wasn't how it was supposed to happen!_

_"I said **no!"**_

And Rory stopped.

Remy shoved him off, and Rory went, landing on the floor with a hard thump. He looked away from her and grabbed hold of his shirt. Remy sat up, slowly, and watched him pull it back on.

Her heart was still pounding, but Remy found it wasn't so hard to slow down her breaths and keep herself in her body. She was all right.

For once, she was actually all right.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

"I'm sorry," Rory said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Why?" _You listened to me. You cared if I wanted it. You_ stopped.

"I… I was only thinking about myself, what I needed. I just _assumed_ instead of looking at you." Rory clenched his fists and finally met her eyes. "I don't want to be like that."

"You're not," Remy said simply.

Rory laughed, bitterly. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because none of them ever felt guilty for hurting me." Strange, how easy it was to say that now. "And because you heard me when I said no."

Rory's eyes went wide.

"What is it?" Remy asked. Rory's silences always made her nervous. "You look like you're-"

 _"How dare you!"_ Lilith's voice shrieked from somewhere in the house, making them both jump. _"I won't be dragged away like some common piece of property!"_

Could it be? Had Yvette finally proven it could be done without Atros's approval?

"Uh." Rory glanced at the door. "I think I should find out what's going on."

Remy stood up. "I'll go first. You don't want to be seen leaving here, do you?"

Rory's ears went pink but he didn't deny it.

Just as Remy was stepping outside Lilith came into sight at the top of the stairs. Remy pulled the door shut behind her and leaned against it, watching Lilith storm down the hallway.

 _"You."_ Lilith snarled. "I don't know how you did it but I know this is your fault!"

Remy smiled and blew her a kiss. _Damn right it is.  
_

"What is all this commotion?" It was Eyebrows, with a somewhat harried looking Argent at his side. "Lilith, what-"

"They say I've been _sold._ To _Byron_." Lilith jabbed a finger into Atros' chest. "Xanthe, tell me you didn't approve this sale without my knowledge?"

Eyebrows stared at her for a moment. "This is the first I've heard of it. They must be bluffing."

"They're not."

On the other side of the landing stood Yvette, arms crossed over her very pregnant belly. Remy stepped back into the doorway, out of Yvette and Lillith's sight but with a good view of Eyebrows' eyebrows shooting up.

"What is the meaning of-" he began, but Yvette cut him off.

"You lied to me, Xanthe. You've been lying to me for _years_."

"If this is about that nonsensical paranoid fantasy of y-"

 _"STOP IT!"_ Yvette's shriek rang out through the hallway. "I know... I know for a _fact_ that you have been having an affair with Lilith."

"And why is that?"

"One of your courtesans told me."

Linneus crept up behind Atros and Argent, one hand clutching the other arm behind his back. For a change, there was a clear emotion on his face: shock.

"And you believed them over me, your husband?" Atros snapped. "Even if it were true, which it isn't, my life here is separate, I've told you that! You are my wife, and nothing changes that! But you have absolutely no right to make business decisions on my behalf!"

"Officially speaking, _Daddy_ made the decision on your behalf. And considering it's Daddy's money that kept you running for years, I'd say he has a perfect right to decide one of your... one of your _women_ is a liability!"

That was all Remy needed to hear.

Back in Axis' old room, Rory was sitting on the couch again, looking vaguely off into the distance with his chin resting on his hands. He didn't seem startled when Remy closed the door behind her.

Before Remy could share the good news, Rory spoke.

"You were right about Lord Reed, you know."

This was so completely not what Remy was expecting to hear that she just sort of blinked at him for a long moment.

"I'll manage, though. I understand him well enough to do that now." Rory sat up straight and smiled sadly at her. "You know he's friends with the king?"

"The king?" Remy echoed stupidly. The King was Rhys, who broke down doors and beat up whores, but that was about all she knew.

"Can you imagine me in a palace?" Rory let out a forced laugh.

"Do you _want_ to?" Remy blurted out.

"No. Does it matter?" Rory exhaled. "I just wish you hadn't signed a contract too."

Technically, Eyebrows had never gotten around to branding Remy so it wouldn't be the hardest contract to break, but Rory's point was fair enough. "I'll take care of it."

Rory smiled, and it was almost real. "You always do land on your feet, Remy."

"Stop talking like you're dying or something!" Remy clenched her fists. "I'm going to take care of _both of us_ , got it?"

"Okay," Rory said, but she could tell he didn't believe her.

"Lilith's gotten sold off somewhere," Remy snapped. "If no one's in the hall anymore, you can go pretend you were never here."

"Lilith's… _what?"_

But Remy was already out the door. "Coast's clear," she tossed over her shoulder before heading downstairs to see how Mercutio and Claret were taking the news.

Not well, as it turned out.

"I just don't understand," Claret was saying, pacing back and forth. "How could this happen? Why didn't anybody _know_ this was happening?"

"What's there to understand, darling? We're property." Mercutio said bluntly. "They don't have to inform us, it's merely a courtesy."

Remy paused on the stairs. She had forgotten that Mercutio had been sold before. An odd, wriggly sort of discomfort bubbled up in her stomach, but she managed to push it down.

"I _know that!"_ Claret cried. "Don't you think I know that? This is exactly what I've been afraid of! I just don't understand why it was _Lilith_ and not me! Lilith's _valuable!"_

"She fetched a good price, I'm sure."

"Stop it! Stop being so _calm_ about everything!"

 _He's not calm_ , Remy thought. She couldn't understand why Claret didn't see that Mercutio was just as upset in his own odd, closed off way.

Slowly, Remy descended the rest of the stairs.

Claret wrung her hands. "If Lilith's not safe, _none_ of us are. We could be sold tomorrow!"

Mercutio glanced at the piano. "It's enough to make anyone swallow their pride." Then, almost as an afterthought, "What would you be willing to swallow, darling?"

"Ewww! Mercutio, that's…" Claret sniffled. " Actually, it’s almost comforting that you can still be gross at a time like this…"

"You flatter me." Mercutio smiled sharply at Remy. "And what about you, darling? Does my fathomless depravity warm you from the inside out?"

"Remy!" Claret jumped, and scrubbed her face as if that would make it less obvious she'd cried. "When did you come in? You're quieter than a cat!"

Remy ignored her. "No," she said to Mercutio. "I don't really see how it's my business what you like to do." _And I'm not exactly the purest virginal flower myself._ "What's going on?"

"Lilith's going away to another brothel," Claret said glumly. "The guy who owns it is a client of hers, so at least he'll probably make sure she settles in all right." The thought seemed to cheer her up. "I mean, he wouldn't buy her if he didn't _like_ her a lot, don't you think?"

Remy wasn't sure what to say. _I'm glad you've convinced yourself._ "This only happened today?"

"Just out of the blue!

"For us," Mercutio added.

"And for Lilith!" Claret crossed her arms. "Doesn't it seem like everyone's been leaving lately? Axis, Lilith, Rory…"

Remy stared at her.

"You didn't know? Well, not everybody gets as lucky as Rory." Claret grinned grotesquely, and Remy imagined spitting in her smug face. "He's so in love with the guy, it's really sweet. I'm so glad Lord Reed's finally going to buy him!"

"He… is?" The arm of the couch was solid underneath Remy's hands, which was a relief because nothing else seemed to be.

"It's in writing then?" Mercutio asked.

"Atros said it's final," Claret chirped. "Lord Reed is coming tonight to sign, and then sometime this week he'll pick Rory up, once he's made sure everything's clean and perfect at his home. So basically, it's just going to be the three of us and Linneus from now on!"

"Darling, I can hardly wait," Mercutio drawled.

Remy sat down.

Too slow. The plan had taken too long, and now the whole thing had been for nothing.

_I can't give up. I won't give up._

Remy never gave up, because Remy never…

Well, that wasn't true.

One way or the other, Remy always lost.

That was it, though. Now she really had nothing left to lose, she had no more excuses, no more time to waste on indirect approaches or other people who could ruin everything with their indifference. Now it was down to just Remy, Reed and Rory.

"I think it's nice that Lord Reed's going to personally arrange everything! I mean, Axis just sort of got sent for all of a sudden, which is sort of romantic, I guess, but also kind of... well, never mind. Rhys is the _King_ now, so he probably doesn't have the free time… Anyway, Rory's all excited about it, and who can blame him?"

"Whatever his other faults may be, the man has _delightful_ taste in gifts."

"Huh? How would you… oh. That was just the one time, though! I saw Lord Reed bring _flowers_ for Rory!"

"More than once, I think you'll find, darling. Such a shame he has that peculiar virgin fixation."

"It's not a-" Claret begun hotly, but stopped when Lilith appeared at the top of the stairs.

She had somehow acquired a fur-trimmed cape which swirled around as she turned, valise in hand, neck, arms and ears glittering with what seemed to be every piece of jewelry she owned. A few steps behind her was an unfamiliar curly-haired man who watched Lilith's every moment with rapt attention.

"Hmph. I always was too good for this dump."

Lilith descended smoothly, head held high and nose turned up, forcing Curly to scurry behind her as though he were an attendant at her coronation. It was impressive, Remy had to admit.

 _"Liiiiiliiiiith!"_ Claret wailed, scrubbing at her eyes. Mercutio discretely provided a handkerchief and a one armed embrace.

"Oh, stop blubbering you silly cow. Byron's going to give me the accommodations I deserve, isn't that right?"

Curly blinked stupidly for a moment before clearing his throat and putting his hand on her arm. "Well, naturally. I wouldn't want such a talented lady to be dissatisfied in any way."

"He'll have his work cut out for him then," Mercutio whispered, deafeningly. Lilith's mouth twitched but otherwise everyone chose to pretend they hadn't heard.

"I'd like to say I'm going to miss all of you, but…" Lilith smirked. "That would be a lie. _I_ have far better things to do with my time than pine over this sinking ship. Enjoy the fading remnants of your broken dreams, and don't do anything I wouldn't do." Her gaze landed on Mercutio. "Except for you, of course."

"What, don't I get any advice?" Mercutio batted his eyelashes.

"Don't eat yellow snow."

Curly (Byron?) opened the door for Lilith, who turned and begun to walk out. Except for a moment she turned back, looked in Remy's direction, and smiled. And then they were gone.

Maybe it was Remy's imagination, but she thought Lilith's smile had been genuine.

"The show is over." It was Eyebrows, glaring down at them from the landing. "Everyone, resume your usual schedule."

Of course, nobody did.

Claret sobbed, blowing her nose loudly in Mercutio's handkerchief. Argent hurried down the stairs the moment Atros turned his back, eyes intent on Claret and Mercutio.

And Rory walked out onto the landing, taking in the scene with a faintly confused air.

Remy gritted her teeth. _What's he doing out so soon? There's nothing for you here!_

Argent's shoulder crashed into Remy's and she let out a hiss of pain as Argent strode forward, just in time for Claret to turn and throw herself into the stoic woman's arms.

_Interesting._

It wasn't that they were fucking, because that had been obvious for some time. But Argent had pointedly ignored her master's directive to push her way into the scene and make sure Claret was crying on _her_ shoulder.

So that was her weakness.

 _And yet..._ Remy studied Claret as she blew her nose again, mumbling something that sounded like gratitude while Argent stroked the back of her pinned up hair. 

If Claret was loved, why didn't she seem to realize it? Why did she waste her time panting after Rory and every sleazy dirtbag client that walked through the Teahouse's front door? The insecurity was grating.

"Cheer up, darling," Mercutio was saying, with a wave of his hand. "It's not as though she's died."

"But I'm going to _miss_ her!" Claret sniffled.

Judging by Mercutio's incredulous look, he wasn't.

It felt like Remy should say something to justify her continued presence.  She reached her hand out to Claret, but Argent pulled her back, and Claret didn't seem to notice.

_Well, fine. Fuck you too._

There were more important things to worry about.

Like the fact that Reed was visiting tonight.

There would be no cupcakes, no Veronese specialties, not anymore.

Just Rory, lying in that huge bed, ready with a pose and a coy smile.

To please him.

Dinner was a fucking nightmare.

Linneus looked even more dead inside than usual, if that was humanly possible. He just kept staring down at his teacup, occasionally turning it in his hands.

"So…" Claret began, nervously. "Um, anyone have any exciting clients lined up?"

"Why the sudden curiosity? Want to share?" Mercutio smirked at her.

 _"No_ , ew!" Claret threw up her hands. "I was just making conversation, you know?"

"Silence isn't one of those things that always needs to be filled, darling. But if there is something you feel the need to discuss, we're all quivering with anticipation."

"It's not like there's anything in particular, just…" Claret's voice faltered. "I don't really just want to sit here thinking about Lilith and Axis."

"Axis? From the sounds of it, he's living like a queen. Better than _the_ queen, in fact."

"…He left the palace, Mercutio. Though he wouldn't tell me why."

"Still, it isn't really our concern."

"I know. I wonder, that's all."

Linneus took a sip of tea, then set the cup down, with a slightly louder noise than Remy had expected.

"You're kinda jumpy tonight, Remy," Claret observed.

Remy looked resolutely at her hands, folded in her lap. "It's nothing."

Somewhere upstairs, Rory was probably being raped.

"…had to be a neat freak, at least it means Rory gets a nice new wardrobe. And it's so cute that Lord Reed writes him letters!"

"You're only saying that because you haven't actually read them, darling. Though there is a certain stimulating quality to disdain."

 _"Mercutio!_ He wasn't writing for _you_."

"A fact I am all too aware of, believe me."

"Jealousy isn't a good look on anybody!"

"Neither is attempting to live vicariously through other people's relationships."

There was a long silence, long enough that Remy looked up. Mercutio was still smiling, but there was a nasty edge to it.

"That's… that's not a very nice thing to say," Claret mumbled.

"And it's hypocritical," Linneus said softly.

Mercutio lifted his hands. "Guilty as charged. Shall I go now? I have an abundance of devilishly degenerate subjects to practice elsewhere, occasionally for people who actually enjoy the sight of my face. And this funeral atmosphere isn't really doing it for me."

"As you wish," Linneus said.

 _It's not a goddamn self-pity competition_ , Remy wanted to say, but Mercutio was already getting up and Claret was sighing to herself, so apparently it fucking was.

"I'm done," Remy muttered. It wasn't like she had anywhere to be but sitting with these pathetic people was like death warmed over.

She went to Lilith's room. It was unoccupied now, and the bed looked nice and not complicated with shitty memories. Remy figured she could have a good night's sleep in it.

And for a while she did.

But then she opened her eyes and the windows were still dark. So Remy rolled over and tried to get back to sleep but it was useless, she was wide awake.

_If I just walked out right now… everyone else is probably sleeping. I could probably do it. I'm not important enough to miss._

She walked out into the hallway, the corridors longer and wider in the shadows than they seemed during the day.

_I could drag Rory out of bed and…_

Remy stopped, thrown out of her thoughts by a clear awful vision of Rory enveloped in Reed's arms, face tight and unhappy even in sleep.

Maybe he had left, but could she really take that chance?

The contract. What was she going to do about the contract?

Her wandering led her to the landing of the main hall, but just as Remy was about to turn down the stairs she saw a figure _move_ and nearly jumped out of her skin.

"I see I'm not the only one who's restless tonight."

It was only Mercutio. Nothing to have a goddamn heart attack over.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark?" Remy gripped the railing and raised her chin. Who did he think he was, some kind of monster in a fairy story?

"Don't worry, I couldn't care less what your reasons are for skulking about at night." She could just make out him waving his hand around in the air. "Come down from yon bower and indulge me, darling. It's lonely down here in the gutter, you know.

Anger flared up in her. "Why?"

"Well, you see, when one person sits by themselves in the dark-"

"If you don't care what I'm doing, why do you want to talk to me?" Remy crossed her arms. "We're not friends."

"Indeed we're not. I find it refreshing."

Remy snorted. "As if you're swimming in friends the rest of the time!"

A pause. "No, but you'd be surprised how many people are quick to call themselves one's friend without meaning anything by it."

Despite herself, Remy went down a few stairs so she could see Mercutio better. He appeared to be leaning against the piano, wearing some satin robe thing. "Do you sleep in that?"

 Mercutio shrugged and held his hands up. "As I'm sure I've said before, I don't sleep _in_ anything. But Atros is strangely resistant to the beauty of the human body in its natural state, and I like to be a comfortable insomniac."  

"It's not insomnia if it's just one night," Remy said stubbornly. She knew that much.

"And how would you know how many nights I've lain awake, darling?" The line was usual Mercutio fluff but his delivery was half-hearted at best.

"What's with you lately, anyway?" She sat down on the stairs, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Even before Lilith got sold you were different. Don't pretend it's not true."

Mercutio tilted his head at her. "You're an observant little kitten, aren't you?” He paused. “No, I have no intention of lying to you."

"Why?" Remy frowned, suspicious. "Why am I suddenly so special?"

"Because I know you don't care." Mercutio sat on the piano bench, staring down at the keys. "It's easier to be honest with someone you can't possibly disappoint."

Remy wasn't sure she agreed with that.

Mercutio raised his head and gazed for a long moment at the moonlit windows. "I'm afraid I may have lost something irreplaceable."

"One of your toys?"

"Oh no, those are very replaceable. Expensive, but possible. Human connection, on the other hand…"

"You don't lose a person," Remy muttered. "Either they leave or you do."

"How very literal."

Remy rolled her eyes. "If you don't want me to take your vague little remarks literally, maybe you should actually tell me what you're trying to say."

"Fair enough." Mercutio ran a hand over the piano. "I seem to have very inconveniently fallen in love with a client, and I have no idea if I'm ever going to see her again."

That Remy had not been prepared for. "Who?"

Mercutio smiled, faintly. "See, I like that. Much better than the inevitable jaw dropping shock from certain parties that someone had actually managed to touch my perverse little heart, as though I'd never known love before."

"So you're not going to answer the question."

"It hardly matters to you, does it?" Well, he had her there. "Truthfully, I'm not very good at being in love."

Remy snorted. "Is anybody?"

Mercutio ignored her. "Somehow the feeling resurrects what remains of my pride, and a proud slut is a rude slut, as Lilith has often demonstrated so inelegantly. Because, you see, I really don't care if my clients love me or not, so long as I make them happy. But I can't stand the idea of being pitied by someone I have feelings for."

Well, some of that hit a little closer to home than Remy would have liked. "Why would she pity you? You're probably the least pathetic person here."

"It's in her nature to be sympathetic." Mercutio played a brief melody with one hand. "Slave is such an ugly word, and it conjures an ugly image. Not necessarily an untrue one, but in my experience plenty of people find that ugliness enticing. There's bondage, and then there's _bondage."_

"So she actually realized being a sex slave was a shitty life and you were so surprised you got defensive?" At least, Remy thought that was what was underneath all the self-conscious wordplay. "That was stupid of you."

Mercutio sighed. "It most certainly was, darling. Although frankly I was more scared than surprised."

"Scared? What, did she offer to buy you or something?"

There was a pause, and Mercutio begun to play a spritely, harsh tune on the piano. "I don't like owing people favors. Or at least, favors that can't be easily repaid. I've always done things my own way, and I've worked hard to make myself who I want to be, and the best part is I can honestly say I did it all. I'm no one's charity case."

Remy frowned. "But you said you loved her."

Mercutio let out a short, humorless laugh. "I did, didn't I? _Very_ inconvenient. _Ah! Sa figure était charmante!"_ He stopped playing. "It's awful. I can't remember the last time I felt this unhappy, and yet… I've heard music since that day. Miserable as I am, I could burst into song right now."

"Don't."

"Too late. _Ses cheveux, ses cheveux en torsades sombres! Sur son vol élégant jetaient leurs chaudes ombres, ses yeux, ses yeux enveloppés d'azur, promenaient autour d'elle un regard frais et pur, et comme notre char, emportait sans secousse, nos coeurs et nos amours sa voix vibrante et douce! Aux cieux qui l'écoutaient! Jetait ce chant vainqueur, aux cieux qui l'écoutaient, jetait ce chant vainqueeeeur, dont l'éterneeeeel écho résoooonne daaaaans mon coeeeeeeeur!"_

Remy glanced behind her to see if anyone had wandered onto the landing to tell Mercutio to stop belting opera in the middle of the night. "I don't speak French, you know."

Mercutio leaned back against the piano. "Translation: she is sweet and beautiful and I adore her beyond reason. With a few details added."

"Yeah, right." Remy snorted. "And I'm supposed to believe you two had pure, beautiful sex?"

"Beautiful, yes. Pure, not for a moment." Mercutio's grin turned genuine. "Darling, she is _unimaginably_ depraved. I've never met a sweeter, filthier mind unless you count my own. I may have cried a little, she was so inventive and enthusiastic."

Now at least it sounded like the sort of love affair you'd expect to blossom in a whorehouse.

"So where does the pity come in, exactly?" Remy leaned back on the stairs and swung her legs out. "Did she stop at random intervals during the amazing fucking to sniffle over how sorry she felt for you? Did she pat you on the head and offer to teach you how to be fit for someone of her exalted class? Because if she was actually offering to buy your title, who gives a shit what her specific motivations are? As long as you're not chained up in her basement, it's got to be better than this."

"And if I disappointed her, then what?" Mercutio finally looked at Remy, his expression unusually serious. "I am what I am, and I'm no gentleman. I already proved that by throwing her generosity in her face."

"So that's it? You're just giving up?"

"What choice do I have, darling? "

Remy glared at him. "What a stupid thing to say. You have the choice not to give up!"

Mercutio sighed. "That's a child's answer."

"Oh, fuck off," Remy snapped. "Don't give me that world weary _I know better than you because you're younger_ crap. I take it back, you've got enough self-pity to go around. Clearly she was just picking up what you were dishing out. How long has it even been since you last saw her? A week?"

"Four days," Mercutio said, drawing himself up. "But I'll have you know they were four _horrible_ days."

 _"Four days?!"_ Remy threw her hands up. "So you had a fight! So what? Grow a goddamned spine and get over it, dildo brain!"

"That's an easy thing to say, but harder still to do," Mercutio retorted. "Are you planning on 'growing a goddamned spine' and just getting over the likelihood that tomorrow will be the last time you ever see your twin brother?"

Remy froze.

"It's a funny game you two play. I can't say I understand it, but I understand that in your own strange way you seem to care about each other. And it doesn't take a genius to see that you don't like Lord Reed buying him."

Remy gritted her teeth and tossed her head. "Oh, really? And why shouldn't I like it?"

"Because you're a slave, kitten. This time, you can't follow where Rory goes. And it reminds you how entirely we must depend on the kindness of strangers."

"So wh-"

There was a crash from upstairs, so suddenly it sent Remy scrambling down the stairs, rushing for cover underneath the piano, and Mercutio followed suit.

Silence.

"I told you to take your hands off me."

"Linneus, if you would just-"

"The answer is no, Xanthe!"

Remy blinked. _Pinky?_

"You're being ridiculous."

"Am I? It seems to me I'm the only one who managed to grow up. No matter what your reasons were for marrying her, Yvette is your wife, and she's carrying your child. You have a responsibility to her, _to them_. Or was it your intention to ignore the child the way your father-"

_"Stop!"_

"Do it, I dare you! Maybe if you actually struck me you'd realize we're not characters in a fairy tale! We made our choices eight years ago. _Eight years ago, Xanthe!_ We can't unmake them now, no matter how much-"

"I love you."

"Please don't say that."

"Do you hear me, _I love you!"_

"It's not enough. Don't you understand? It's _never_ been enough."

"You're lying."

"Xanthe, I… I wish we could do things over, I truly do. But it's not as simple as you and I. I can't just live for you, and I can't pretend I don't see how selfish it is to go on like this.” A pause. “It's over, Xanthe. And that's final."

"Linneus? _Linneus!"_

Footsteps raced away, receding into silence.

After a long moment, Remy crawled out from under the piano and dusted off her clothes.

"Speaking of spines, or should I say balls?" Mercutio raised his eyebrows. "Unfortunately I suspect our brave little prostitute's Lysistratic moral stand is going to mean a world of unpleasantness for the rest of us, no matter his intentions."

"Why, because without any hookers left who put out for free Atros might actually be forced to resort to boning his wife?" Remy retorted. "Yeah, I'm crying a river for his poor neglected dick."

"His reasons don't matter. The result is our day to day lives hanging on the whim of a man bitterly rejected in love." Mercutio leaned against the piano and sighed. "This is the sort of thing that interferes terribly with my beauty sleep."

"The sort of thing you wouldn't have to worry about if you just let the girl you're supposedly in love with take you away from here."

"Then I imagine you're very happy about your brother's magnificently romantic escape." Mercutio's mouth quirked with the satisfaction of having painted Remy into a corner, and she hated him for it. "Perhaps you should be a little more concerned about your own future."

 _I have no future,_ Remy thought, and lifted her chin. _And you don't know anything about me._

"The only person here who seems fixated on my brother leaving is you." Remy smiled sweetly. "Sorry you didn't get to play any pervert games with him?"

"Absolutely!" Mercutio waggled his eyebrows, seemingly immune to low blows. "Oh, don't give me that look, kitten. When you throw vulgarity about you like a cloak you have to be prepared to meet someone else who has the same dress sense. Which reminds me, you really should invest in some sparkly jewelry. Dressed like that, people might think you're respectable."

"Why should I care about something as superficial as that? All these people do when they look at me is try and imagine the clothes away." Maybe exhaustion was finally setting in, but for a moment Remy thought she'd caught a glimpse of Mercutio's real hand. "Except, it's not superficial to you, is it? You've made your surface your substance. That's why you're scared. You can't remember what's underneath, and you're not sure you like it."

"Oh, I know _all_ about what's underneath, darling." Mercutio toyed with the sash on his robe threateningly. "Want to see?"

It was a bluff. Remy had figured him out now, she was sure of it. "Liar. You're the opposite of self-reliant. You take in every shitty thing they say about you and make it true, because that way you can't get hurt. You've let other people define you for so long you've started to actually believe they're right and you _are_ nothing more than a creepy whore who'll do anything. But that's not what she saw, was it? Somehow, she got to you, the _real_ you, and that terrified you."

Mercutio stared at her.

Remy smiled. "What was it you said? The same dress sense."

Mercutio sat down on the piano stool. "I very rarely say this," he informed her, "but you and I would have _terrible_ sex."

After a moment, they both burst out laughing.

"You're missing out," Remy said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. "You know, I can get a guy off in two seconds flat if he sticks his cock down my throat when I'm screaming-"

She was laughing so hard, she missed the exact moment when Mercutio went silent.

"What, don't you get it? It's a joke!"

"So I see you've moved to Lilith's room," Mercutio said abruptly.

Fine, he wanted to change the subject? Subject changed. Who knew it was so easy to offend someone who prided themselves on their filthy mind?

"Yeah, after Axis fucked me in his bed the smell lingered, so I was looking for a different place to crash anyway." Remy crossed her arms and leaned against the stairs.

"Well, that was your mistake, darling. Axis smells terrible enough when he's not leaking semen, so you really should have known better." Mercutio clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

Remy shrugged. "There were other things about him I found interesting."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Look, we weren't exactly getting engaged. That dumb horny caveman is not the type I would fall for," Remy said, irritated. It wasn't like fucking _Mercutio_ had room to judge. "Sometimes a fuck is just a fuck."

Mercutio lifted his eyebrows. "Humor me. What _is_ the type you fall for, kitten?"

Remy tossed her head. "If I was going to bother devoting myself to them, they couldn't go around giving empty praise to everything that moves. Believe it or not, someone _nice_. Preferably not hopelessly moronic, but not one of those blowhard intellectuals. And what about you? Tell me something about this woman you're in love with. Something _real,_ not just that she's beautiful and perfect in bed."

"Real?" Mercutio laughed. "How should any of us know what's real in here?"

That wasn't an answer, but maybe it said enough. "Well, enjoy your fantasy."

"I will, thank you. And I hope she does, too." He grinned infuriatingly, and Remy realized she wasn't even sure why he was making her so annoyed.

_Who gives a fuck if he wants to lie around singing stupid love songs to himself in French or whatever? At least he's out of my way._

Apparently taking Remy's silence as an invitation to keep talking, Mercutio sighed and ran his fingers over the piano keys again. "If she is gone, I'd much rather her remember me fondly than in one of my uglier moods. I suppose that's really what I'm afraid of. It's strange, knowing there's still a person in this world whose opinion of me matters."

Remy shrugged and turned away. "Whatever."

What a stupid, selfish thing to worry about. Forget how the girl felt, or what she wanted out of Mercutio, he'd be happy if she left as long as she didn't think he was a bad person? And what if she needed him, or what if he was the only person _she_ felt like understood her?

 _I'm not like that. I_ can't _be like that, sitting on my ass and thinking of my own vanity! It doesn't matter if Rory loves me or hates me. What matters is that Rory's safe, and Rory's happy._

_And Rory would probably be happier if he thought I was a sadistic monster that only cared about hurting him._

_Then maybe he'd stop sabotaging himself and acting like he had to be punished for wanting me. Maybe he'd get a real job, with people who respected him, and talk to Catherine again._

_Maybe he could start his life over again, the way he would have done if I'd never showed up in the first place._

_Start things all over again…._

By morning, she knew what she had to do.

"Eeeew! You're using your _fingers?!"_

Remy stopped just before the kitchen, baffled.

"Claret, it's fine. I washed my hands, okay?"

"But you're _touching the cake_ with your fingers! Don't think I don't know where those fingers have been!"

"W-what does that even mean?"

She rounded the corner to find a lightly blushing Rory smoothing the edges on a large multi-layer square cake with one finger. Green Tits was grinning for some stupid reason.

"You _know_ what I-"

"Good morning, Remy," Rory said, cutting Greenie off.

"Good morning." Remy wasn't sure what to do with her hands, so she leaned against the counter.

"Rory's making a farewell cake for all of us!" Green- _Claret_ chirped. "Isn't he cute?"

 _Farewell._ There was a lump in Remy's throat.

"It's… more of a thank you cake, really," Rory said quickly. "You know, for… for everything."

 _For what?_ Remy wanted to scream, but she had to be good today. She had to be on absolute best behavior.

So she bit her lip and trained her eyes firmly on the floor.

"Aww, you're welcome! But are you sure you're not making some of this for Lord Reed? I can't believe he wouldn't appreciate it!"

"Well, I mean, he said I can bake if it makes me happy but he doesn't like sweet things. So I figured I might as well make a cake for everyone here that'll actually get eaten."

"And it definitely will, don't you worry about that!"

"Thanks, Claret. Anyway, I kind of need some space to work, so if you two could just-"

_"Puppy!"_

Remy jumped at Mercutio's sudden exclamation. She had no idea when he'd come in, but it was impossible to miss him now in a billowing green dressing gown which fluttered to full effect when he flung his arms around an alarmed looking Rory and promptly began rubbing his face against the top of his head.

"Is that a massive cake, or are you just happy to see me, darling?"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Rory blurted out, cheeks red.

"It's for _all_ of us, and it's not done!" Claret lectured Mercutio. "Stop pawing at Rory, he needs to finish!"

"I'll bet he does," Mercutio leered.

Remy frowned. It was hard to tell, given Rory's habit of throwing himself completely into his lies, but she thought that might be a real blush.

"I actually do have more things to make and this needs to set for a while, so please, everybody get out!" Rory said loudly.

She took a deep breath. "Rory, I need to talk to you."

Rory barely glanced at her. "We can talk later."

Claret waved Mercutio back towards the door, in Remy's way. "All right, let's give Rory some space!"

"How much space does he need?"

Remy pushed past the two of them. "No, Rory, I _really_ need to talk to you. It's important."

He still wasn't looking at her. "This is more important. Go away."

Panic rose up in Remy. It was now or never.

She grabbed him by the back of his apron. "Rory, wait! I… I want to apologize."

The entire kitchen went silent as Rory turned around.

He eyed Remy suspiciously. "For lying to Axis about me?"

Remy blinked. She hadn't expected him to bring that up in front of other people. "Yes."

"For threatening Claret?"

 _And dragging her in the middle of our fight, you mean?_ "Yes."

"For tormenting me?" The others were watching, but they didn't see the satisfaction in Rory's eyes that Remy did.

_You're goddamn enjoying this, aren't you?_

"Yes," Remy said quietly, not breaking eye contact. "I know I haven't always been the best sister, and I know I've been difficult to live with, and I really am sorry."

"Why?"

His face wasn't like stone. Of course, he wouldn't want the others to see how icy he could be. But the innocent sounding one word question made him look good as gold while she fumbled to figure out what response he could possibly be looking for.

"I guess I just… if you're leaving, and this is the last time we see each other, I don't want…" Her voice wavered, and Remy had to take a breath to shove down the rising tide of emotion. "If you're happy, I'm happy for you, Rory. Please… don't remember me as someone who never loved you."

_Fuck, am I… tearing up?_

Remy blinked furiously. If she didn't get through this now, she might lose her nerve and then nothing would ever matter again.

"Nothing I ever did was your fault," she choked out.

_I'M NOT GOING TO CRY._

_I DON'T CRY._

_REMY DUBOIS DOES NOT CRY!_

For a moment she was afraid it wasn't enough. That Rory wanted her completely humiliated, that he would see how much he could push her to give, and Remy would give everything and anything he asked.

But then Rory took her hand. "Remy…"

"Do you know what this is about?"

"Claret, darling, I've heard foghorns softer than that whisper of yours."

Rory let out a sigh. "Okay. We'll talk more later tonight, all right? I still have things to finish in here."

"That's it?!" Claret exclaimed.

Remy and Rory stared at her.

"We'll talk later, _in private_ ," Rory said, an edge of real irritation creeping into his voice. Remy managed to suppress a smile.

_Is it fucked up to be happy when he's mad at other people? Probably._

_But I've always been fucked up._

"Darling, if it's theater you want…" Mercutio snaked an arm around her shoulders, "I would be more than happy to provide!"

Claret gave him a suspicious look. "What does that mean?"

Remy ignored them, slipping out of the way as Rory did his best to politely force everyone out of the kitchen. She turned around one last time in the doorway to catch another glimpse of him, and found him watching her.

She smiled at him and walked out.

He outdid himself with the food, of course. It probably even tasted good, but Remy wasn't in the mood to pay much attention.

Afterwards, she went upstairs.

Since there was no answer when Remy knocked on the door, she assumed he was still cleaning up in the kitchen and waited in the hall patiently.

When Rory rounded the corner, he stared at her as if she'd grown a second set of tits or something.

"What?" Remy shifted uncomfortably. "Did you change your mind about talking to me?"

"No, I just…" Rory shook his head and opened the door. "Since when do you respect my privacy instead of just barging in?"

"Well, that would defeat the point of apologizing, wouldn't it?" Remy shrugged, following him into the room.

"So, what was the 'point' of apologizing?"

She winced. "I didn't mean it like that, okay? I really am sorry I've been such a huge bitch. You don't deserve that."

Not much had changed in his room. No suitcases, no indication of packing up to leave the next morning. But then again, he hadn't packed much before when he left her in his bed and skipped town.

"You haven't been a _bi-"_ Rory began, but Remy cut him off.

"Cut the crap. You know I have, from the beginning. You can't honestly think you deserved the shit I used to spew at you in Catherine's house, and you definitely didn't deserve cleaning up my puke that one time."

"Well, no, I don't think that, but I don't really think about it in those terms." Rory frowned. "But if you're about to explain why you did all that stuff, then sure, I'd like to hear it."

She glanced at the pile of books on his dresser. They were about the only things that looked ready for departure. "Well, you know our mother always liked you better. After the charm of my surprise arrival from the void wore off, she was… not too delighted by me. I guess it's always disappointing when your pretty little girl turns out to be a drunken slut."

Rory was silent. She knew he knew he couldn't deny he was the favorite.

"But you, you were the golden boy. You were the good twin, the one that always did the socially acceptable thing and never embarrassed anybody or had ugly problems. Do you know how that made me feel?" Remy dug her fingernails into her palms and looked at him, hating the pity etched into his features even as the sight of it was a relief. "And it was always that way, from the beginning. Second choice Remy. Father would have taken you instead, you know. He wanted to toughen up his son, but I was the one she let him leave with."

"I don't know what to say," Rory said quietly.

Remy exhaled. "It's not your fault, that's my point. I was jealous, and I resented the way everybody loved you, but that wasn't fair." There was a stain on the carpet. "Do you think he loves you?"

A pause. "Who?"

"Lord Reed." He looked genuinely surprised for some reason. _"Obviously."_

Rory shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"But you want everyone to believe you love him," Remy said flatly. "Why?"

"That's what he's paying for. I already told you this." Rory rubbed his face, irritation creeping into his tone. "I'm leaving, all right? That's the point. And I didn't need your help, and you didn't need to sell yourself to do it. I can get Reed to buy you if you-"

"Are you fucking _serious?"_ Remy blurted out.

He blinked.

_Oh my fucking god. He is, isn't he?_

She couldn't take this. "It's not over just because you literally leave the goddamn Teahouse!"

"I'm aware of that, Remy, thanks," Rory said, more than a little sarcastically. "Can you at least believe me when I say I know what I'm doing?"

Remy grabbed his wrist. _"He fucking raped you!"  
_

Silence.

Long, long silence.

Rory didn't look away from her, but she could feel him slipping away all the same, his eyes going hollow and distant.

She wouldn't regret using the word. She _couldn't_.

"Yes, he did," Rory said abruptly. "Once. But if you think that was all he ever did you're wrong. And if you think I just sat there, begrudgingly consenting time after time, you're wrong again. You're not the only slut in the family."

Remy felt sick. "You said that-"

"I said a lot of things, Remy," Rory retorted, wrenching his wrist out of her hand. "I was ashamed. But as long as we're being _honest_ with each other, I've done all sorts of things completely of my own free will that I didn't have to do! Because _I_ got off on it!"

Her hands were shaking. "That doesn't matter."

"Why? Because you're determined to see me as a victim no matter what? Because we can't both have 'ugly problems'?"

"I never said that!"

The books were all books he'd had before. She opened the front cover of the poetry one, the one she'd seen a picture of herself tucked into before.

There was nothing there.

"Do you want to hear about it?"

That made her turn back around.

Rory was sitting at the foot of the bed, hands clenched on his knees. He looked at her and smiled bitterly. "When he walks in, I always make sure I'm half-dressed at most. Maybe my bathrobe's half-hanging off my shoulder, that sort of thing. He doesn't like it when I 'throw myself' at him, so I don't look too excited. At least, not at first."

There was something horribly familiar about this.

"Sometimes I climb into his lap and kiss him. I sit there and wiggle around provocatively until he gets hard and then either I ride him or he tells me where he wants me." Rory's voice was dull, but his eyes burned. "Sometimes he wants to watch me use the things he sends, and I writhe on the bed, begging him to fuck me. I do a lot of that."

Remy swallowed.

"Sometimes he praises me, tells me I'm a good boy, a good little slut. Sometimes he actually looks at my face when he's fucking me, but that's worse, somehow. And, once or twice, I've heard him muttering a name that isn't mine in his sleep, a name I recognize." Rory's jaw clenched visibly. "He never calls out my name, because I'm just his whore."

She shook her head emphatically. "It doesn't matter what he thinks, you're n-"

"Yes. I. Am," Rory spat. "How much more do I have to tell you before you finally see how disgusting I am? That's why I left in the first place! Because I thought you deserved better than me!"

"I deserved to be told that _to my face!"_ Remy shouted.

Shock wiped the anger and derision out of his face, and for a moment he stared at her, really at _her_. Then, finally, he exhaled a long breath and hung his head.

"Yes, you did." Rory buried his face in his hands. "And I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Remy."

She didn't know what to say.

Tentatively, she approached him as he sat there, shoulders shaking. "Rory…"

"You have no idea how sorry I am," he gasped, and she realized he was trying not to cry.

Remy hesitantly touched his shoulder. "It's all right."

"It's not all right!"

"Okay, it isn't. But I forgive you anyway." Remy bit her lip and sat down next to him. "You said something to me once that… well, it meant something to me. So I'm going to say it back to you, because I mean it and I hope you'll understand."

Rory lifted his head slowly, so she could see his watery eyes. "What?"

Remy took both his hands and squeezed them. "I'm proud of you."

For a moment he stared at her.

And suddenly he'd fallen into her arms, his furious embrace so tight and warm she couldn't quite believe it. Until she felt him sob into her neck.

Slowly, Remy wrapped her arms around Rory, stroking his head and back with a tenderness she'd never known she was capable of. Right now, right here, this was all that mattered. She couldn't undo what had been done to him, she couldn't make all his troubles run screaming, but she could hold him and be with him and kiss the top of his precious head and let him know that he was loved.

Because, whether he returned her feelings or not, he was her brother and she loved him with everything left in her tiny tainted heart.

They stayed that way for a while.

When Rory finally raised his head, his eyes were red-rimmed, his face was blotchy pink and his nose was running. He looked… like total shit.

It was kind of shocking to realize she'd never seen him a total mess like this before. God fucking knew he'd seen her looking even worse.

"I can't believe you didn't make a comment about what a crybaby I am." Rory laughed, though Remy didn't. "I mean, who _are_ you?"

"Shut up," Remy muttered. "You know I… I'm a bitch, but I can tell the difference between real emotions and manipulative bullshit. And I'm still your sister."

She felt him tense slightly, then relax. "Why couldn't you have been like this before?"

Remy studied the huge ugly button on his collar. "I wasn't really… ready. Honestly, I…" she bit her lip. "I was scared."

"Scared?" She glanced up at Rory's surprisingly attentive face just in time to see him wipe the snot off his face with the back of his hand. "Uh… sorry, that was gross." He rubbed the back of his head in what she'd come to recognize as a self-conscious gesture.

Remy bit her lip again, this time to keep from grinning stupidly at how outrageously cute he could be. "I really don't care."

"Well. Anyway, um, you were saying?"

"Yes." She'd been kind of grateful for the distraction. "Well, I was scared. I spent my entire childhood telling myself to toughen the fuck up and I couldn't just undo that. I didn't trust anyone, least of all you."

Rory frowned. "Why least of all me?"

She swallowed. _Might as well go all the way._ "Because you saw me. You saw through every stupid assertion and casual boast, through the seasoned glamorous act I'd worked so hard to hide behind, and you told me so from the start. You could tell I was full of shit. And you were _nice_ , which I had no idea what the fuck to do with."

Rory smiled faintly. "But you saw me too, Remy, just the same way."

"Except you had nothing to hide," Remy pointed out. "You just played games because you were bored and lonely. I was like that because I didn't want to ever get hurt again." She hesitated. "I… felt vulnerable. And it pissed me off. And I know I said and did fucked up things, I'm not _justifying_ it or anything, I just…" _…just want you to understand._

Rory's arms wrapped around her and he pulled her back into a hug. "I know," he whispered. "I… didn't exactly make things easier for you. And I'm sorry for that, too."

"No!" Remy shoved herself away, furious. "Don't say that, you were..!" She swallowed again. "Rory, I never knew how to do touchy-feely shit and I'm probably fucking it up right now but what I'm trying to say is I never would have _tried_ if it weren't for you! You… you made me want to be a better person."

A tear slid down Rory's cheek. "That's…" He blinked repeatedly and swallowed visibly, his shoulders shaking. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Then I guess I did something right." Remy smiled wryly.

"That's what I was about to say." Rory let out a choked little laugh and smiled back.

Slowly, Remy leaned in to rest her forehead against Rory's. When she felt his breath catch her heart began to pound.

When his eyes fluttered shut, she kissed him.

Just before she could wonder if she'd misread him, Rory leaned into her mouth and flicked his tongue against her lips in an obvious bid for entry. Heart racing, Remy opened her mouth and slid her hands up his chest.

And then Rory's hands were tugging at her dress and her hands were helping him unbutton and unlace as their kiss grew hungrier and more desperate. When his fingers brushed against her bare skin Remy gasped out loud.

Rory nuzzled her cheek and kissed her jaw, kissed under her ear, kissed her neck as Remy shivered with pleasure and stroked his hair and back. Somehow the bodice of her dress had fallen down entirely but it wasn't as though Remy _minded._

Remy tore open the rest of Rory's shirt as he yanked down the straps of his suspenders and pulled her onto his lap so they could kiss again, hungrily, his hands exploring her bare back and working their way down, down, _yes!_

 _"God,_ Remy!" Rory gasped, cupping and squeezing her ass as she all but purred in his ear.

Remy nuzzled his neck and ground against the increasingly noticeable bulge in his pants, making Rory moan. "No one's ever done it for me like you," she breathed, which was true.

"You…" Rory arched his hips up against hers with a cry. "If you had any idea how long I've… how _much_ I've…"

Remy smiled, nipping his ear lightly enough to tease. "Well, I did take your virginity before it was on the market, didn't I?" She kissed the tip of his nose as his cheeks went pink. "That's at least some idea, brother mine."

Rory was making sweet, needy sounds as Remy kissed his neck and ran her hands down his chest, reminding herself she couldn't leave a mark, no matter how tempting it was. She felt him shudder as her thumbs brushed against his chest, and had to bite back a whimper of her own when she realized he was sensitive there. _Oh, Rory, I'm going to make you feel so good!_

"Remy…"

Rory's eyes burned into hers so intently for a moment Remy forgot how to speak.

And then he dragged her down onto the bed with him.

"Yes," Remy gasped as Rory rolled on top of her, pressing hot kisses to her shoulders and collarbones and the tops of her breasts. "Oh Rory, _more!"_

Her leg had wrapped around his hips at some point as she reached for him, but Rory's mouth was traveling lower and lower as his hands caressed her hot skin, squeezing her tits as he kissed them and kept on kissing lower, _lower…_

Remy shivered as Rory licked her belly, his hands swooping over her hips and around her thighs (and now her leg was sort of tucked underneath his armpit, her bare foot resting against his upper back which was kind of ridiculous but she never wanted to stop touching any part of him so she kept it there stubbornly) but then he slid a little further down and Remy moaned and opened her legs for him. Holy _fuck_ was she ever ready for him to go down on her!

When Rory hesitated, his head hovering just above her cunt, Remy felt an uncomfortable flicker of self-doubt. He'd never seen what she looked like there before.

Did he not like the way it looked?

Was he thinking about how many men had been there before?

Was he…. disgusted?

"You know I, um…" Rory's cheeks reddened. "You're the only girl I've ever been with, so… can you teach me? What's good for you, I mean. Because I… I want to…"

Remy stared at him, her heart soaring.

When he pressed a quick kiss to her mound, she felt positively giddy. _He wants to. He… he's…_

"Please?"

Remy blinked, realizing she hadn't actually answered him. "Of course I can, you idiot." She propped herself up on her elbows and reached to stroke Rory's hair as he smiled with obvious relief. "Now, how much do I have to teach you? I certainly hope you can locate my cunt, but I wouldn't blame you for not having heard of the clitoris."

"Uh…" Rory's blush darkened. "Let's… just start by pointing to where you want me to um, lick?"

Since she wasn't exactly positioned to kiss his precious rosy cheeks, Remy settled for ruffling his hair and grinning before reaching down to spread herself with two fingers. "Hard to miss this, huh?" She ran her thumb over her clit and shuddered. "My clitoris. It feels _really_ good when I get any kind of friction against it. So like your dick but smaller and nothing ever comes out of it." With Rory's hungry eyes on her she couldn't help rubbing it again, a little harder. _I want you to see how I get myself off, Rory…_

"So…" Rory lowered his mouth, but his eyes never left her. "Like… this?"

Remy whimpered as Rory's tongue dragged across her clit, bottom to top. "Rory…"

When the fuck had he learned how to smile _seductively?_ "What else should I do?"

God, his mouth was still so close she could feel his hot breath, which was just unfairly distracting. "Again. And lower," Remy blurted out. Which was laughably unclear, but Rory didn't seem to mind. And the moment his tongue touched her again Remy forgot all about being self-conscious and weird.

It was _unreal_ , lying back in this bed, one hand on Rory’s shoulders, Rory’s mouth on her, Rory’s _tongue_ finding its way between her folds, his head shifting between her thigh to get a better angle.

“Rory, Rory, _Rory…”_

She barely even recognized her own voice, high and full of desperate need like she’d never been with a man before.

It wasn’t… it wasn’t that he was so prodigiously good, although he was way, _way_ better than any first time cunnilingus-giver had any right to be. It was that it was _him_ , it was Rory at long last, and she _burned_ for his touch.

And then, far too soon, Rory raised his head, his mouth and nose obscenely wet with her desire.

“Sorry…” he panted. “My tongue is kind of… cramping up…”

She couldn’t help the stupid smile that spread across her face. How was it possible he could still be so sweetly innocent?

“I’ll make it up to you,” Rory promised, kissing her stomach.

Remy laughed, really laughed, so giddy was she. “No, _I_ will, Rory.”

She sat up, prompting him to join her, and was pleased to see he didn’t appear to have come in his pants just yet.

“Let me…” she breathed in his ear, reaching down to unbutton his fly.

“Oh god, Remy…” Rory shuddered against her, his heavy breathing music to her ears.

So hot, so _hot_ in her hand! And dripping, all because of her. _Only_ because of her.

Rory moaned, hips moving with her as she stroked him, his beautiful eyes closing to concentrate on pleasure.

She couldn’t look away from his face twisted in ecstasy, even more magnificent than she’d imagined, his lips parting as he gasped when she thumbed his head.

Remy couldn’t resist leaning in to slip her tongue in that mouth again, to kiss him, to _taste_ him, to have as much of him as she could all at once.

Rory moaned obscenely into her mouth, dragging her so she was practically on top of him, one of his hands… one of his hands pushing up her skirts again to touch her in the same way, to…

 _“Rory!”_ Remy whimpered, as two of his fingers managed to skim across her aching clit.

He grinned, bumping his nose against hers. “I told you I’d make it up to you…”

She nuzzled his face, wanting to be close, as close as possible, her skin against his, their hearts beating one beat side by side.

“Remy…” Rory panted. “I… I don’t know how much longer I can…”

“Then come.” She kissed his cheek, kissed his neck, tightened her grip as he moaned. “Come for me, Rory.”

He tensed up, something flitting through his face that she didn’t understand. But then, oh, _then._

Rory groaned, coming hot on her breasts and belly until Remy was gasping too, thrilled beyond measure.

“S-sorry…” Rory blushed. How he had enough blood left in his face to turn so red was beyond Remy.

Remy shook her head, breathless. “I like it.”

She cupped her breasts to show him, letting his come smear over her nipples.

Rory looked like he was torn between laughter and arousal. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“And when have I ever done that?”

He snorted. “At least let me clean you up before it dries.”

Remy smiled, stroking his cheek with one messy hand. “Or we could take a bath together.”

There was that closed-off expression again. “That’s something he does.”

A chill ran down Remy’s spine. She didn’t need him to say what man Rory meant.

Rory, sitting in the tub with his knees drawn up, small and fragile next to Lord Reed’s muscled bulk.

Still and awkward as the beast used him like a doll, touching him where he pleased, how he pleased.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Rory snapped.

Before she could apologize, he slipped off the bed, fastened his fly and went to the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”

Somewhat to Remy’s surprise, he was, with a washcloth and basin. “Come here.”

He touched her gently, almost reverentially, lightly scrubbing at her skin until all traces of him were gone, finally giving her the washcloth so she could wash her hands.

“I did it again,” Rory said glumly.

Remy frowned. “Did what?”

“I got off and you didn’t.” He made a face. “I couldn’t even finish using my mouth on you.”

“So?” Remy tugged on his collar, making him look her in the eye. “You were good, all right? Better than any virgin should be, anyway.”

“I’m really not a virgin,” Rory pointed out.

“At last.” Remy smiled, laying a hand on his chest. “Better than anyone who’s largely been fucked by men has a right to be when faced with a pussy, then.”

He snorted, which Remy thought was as good as approval, and put his hand over hers. “Remy…”

“I know, I know. I’m vulgar and ruining your beautiful ideals again.”

“I don’t have ideals. Not anymore.” Rory’s hand tightened on hers, pain passing through his face. “I… I think I understand why you were always so harsh when we were younger.”

 _When we were younger._ As though it had been an eternity, and not a mere two years ago.

Remy still remembered their first embrace, and how skinny he’d felt in her arms.

He had been so kind to her, kinder than she’d deserved. She’d thought he was trying to get under her skin, get inside her head and take what little she had. That he wanted to possess her.

It wasn’t until some stupid remark of Catherine’s that it had even occurred to her that he was looking for a friend.

“Everyone here is looking for something they’re never going to find, trying to be better than everyone else at things that don’t matter, because at the end of the day, what’s different?” He was shaking now, shoulders hunching over. “And… and when people are awful to you, it’s hard not to be awful right back, to try to throw your pain at somebody else so it doesn’t burn you up, and I just… I was never a perfect person, but I feel like I’ve gotten worse every day I’ve been here, and sometimes I look in the mirror and I don’t even _recognize_ myself!”

If he started crying, she wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“Sssh,” Remy said softly, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I’m trying to ap-pologize, for…” Rory sobbed. "For hitting y-"

Without another word she pulled him back onto the bed.

He took a deep, shuddering breath and buried his face in her neck as she kissed his forehead.

“Don’t apologize.”

That made him look up, blinking his beautiful wide eyes at her.

“Show me instead,” Remy breathed.

Rory surged up and kissed her with ferocious _need_ , hands scrabbling against her bare back. She kissed him back with everything she had and then some, pulling his shirt the rest of the way off and unbuttoning his fly again, yanking down his pants.

He moaned into her mouth as her hands found his ass, pulling his mouth back only to press heated, desperate kisses to her neck, her collarbones, her breasts, her-

She spread her thighs almost without thinking, the ache was so strong.

_Need you, need you inside me, Rory!_

“I love you,” Rory gasped, kissing between her breasts before taking her other nipple into his mouth with a spectacularly obscene suck. “God, Remy, I love you!”

Remy’s heart lurched.

_Don’t say that._

_Don’t say that!_

She gripped him by the back of his head, shuddering as he nuzzled her, wanting to forget everything, forget there was a past.

_“Rory!”_

Remy arched up as Rory took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking _hard_ as his hand teased the other with sweet little pinches.

Forget there was a future.

Forget there was anything on earth but this, them, right now.

When his hand slid down, fingers parting her, she felt his shuddering gasp as though it were her own. “God, Remy, you’re so _wet!”_

His fingers slid easily inside her, just what she wanted and at the same time not enough. Not nearly enough.

But they were _Rory’s_ fingers, and Rory was looking at her like she was the most beautiful thing in the world, and Remy moaned desperately, so hot she could barely think.

“This time,” Rory breathed, “I want _you_ to come for me.”

It should have been funny, really, hearing him spout a line like that, should have been ridiculous, _was_ ridiculous but Remy’s laughter died in her throat when her eyes met his again.

_God, he means it._

“That is, um… if you want to?”

Fuck, why did his sudden burst of self-consciousness warm her from the inside out?

_Because it’s so, so, utterly Rory._

“Kiss me again,” Remy demanded.

It didn’t matter that his fingers slowed, didn’t matter that he nearly banged his nose into hers in his eagerness, his mouth was hot and sweet and perfect.

And he was hard again, as ready as she was ready, would always be ready.

She buried her nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his sweat and reminding herself that this was real, this was _happening,_ and she was going to savor every last gritty detail of it because now, now, in this moment, for _once_ she was…

_Happy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from I Didn't Have The Nerve To Say No by Blondie.
> 
> What Mercutio sings is from Les Contes d'Hoffman, also an Offenbach opera, and is part of the song Chanson de Kleinzach. The character in the opera is telling a story when he abruptly veers off into a digression about the latest woman he's fallen in love with, which is part of what Mercutio sings. Translated (via aria-database) it is
> 
> Ah, that face was charming!  
> [...]  
> Her hair in dark locks cast elegant shadows  
> her azure eyes about her a clear, pure glance  
> And as our carriage bore our hearts and our love,  
> her vibrant sweet voice carried that triumphant song to the listening skies,  
> whose eternal echo resounds in my heart!


End file.
